Blues
by FadedPromise
Summary: Modern AU. Jean Beazley is a blues singer trying to get back into the Los Angeles club scene after many years away. She needs an accompanist, and up steps Lucien Blake, a pianist with a troubled past. Little did either of them know where the makeshift partnership would lead.
1. Chapter 1

Jean Beazley sat on the forward edge of the chair and twisted the handle of her purse as she waited for her prospective employer. She needed this job. Her last boss, after she'd worked only a few nights, had closed up shop with no warning and without paying his employees what they were owed. She would have a difficult time meeting next month's rent if she didn't find employment soon.

When Mister Lawson entered the room, she stood up to greet him. "Hello," she said, managing a smile.

"Hello, Jean. Can I call you Jean?" he asked.

"Yes, of course."

"I'm Matthew," he told her. "Please, sit."

"Thank you," said Jean. She sat and pulled the compact disc from her purse, holding it out to him. "The demo tape you asked for."

He took it from her and slid it into the player. Her voice came through the speakers, singing the Etta James song 'At Last'. Matthew leaned back and closed his eyes as he listened. The next song was the standard 'Trouble in Mind' followed by the faster-paced "Rum and Coca-Cola'.

When the disk finished playing, Matthew sat up straight and looked at her. "You're very good, Jean. You should be playing the big venues. Why do you want to work here?"

She reined in the trace of annoyance she felt at that question. He had to know that it required agents and contacts to play the big venues, making a name for one's self. Jean had none of those things at present. But allowing her annoyance to show would not help.

"I haven't really sung professionally in quite a few years," she told him. "I'm looking to get back into the business. And I need the money."

"I see." He seemed sympathetic. "All right, why don't we do a trial run tonight?" He named a figure that would more than cover her rent. "If we're both satisfied, we can talk about a longer run, agreed?"

Jean thought quickly. She loved the idea (and the amount of pay he proposed) but there was one problem. "My usual accompanist isn't available," she admitted. "Out of town, I'm afraid." The rat had taken another gig without letting her know. She was still furious at him.

"We may be able to work something out," Matthew told her. "There's a pianist that plays here regularly. He might agree to help out."

"I don't know," said Jean. "Some of my songs are somewhat... obscure."

"He knows a lot of obscure songs, believe me. Why not give him a try? I assume you have your music in there." He indicated the messenger bag at her feet. "And if there's anything he doesn't know, he can pick it up pretty quickly."

Jean gave a sly smile. "He sounds very talented. Shouldn't he be playing one of the big venues?"

Matthew laughed quietly. "Touché," he said. "Come meet him, he's inside at the moment."

He ushered her into the club itself, and she could hear a slow, sorrowful rendition of 'What'll I Do' played on the piano. It made her want to weep, it was so lovely. If this was to be her accompanist, well, she could certainly find a way to work with him.

"Major, sorry to interrupt," said Matthew, resting a hand on one of the man's broad shoulders.

The pianist turned his head, and upon spotting Jean, he quickly stood up and smiled. "Hello. Who do we have here?" he asked.

Between the brilliance of the smile and the amazingly blue eyes, Jean felt like a flustered school girl.

Thankfully, Matthew spoke, giving her a moment to regain her composure. "This is Jean Beazley. Jean, this is Lucien Blake. Major, Jean is going to do a set tonight, with the possibility for signing on with us full time. Her usual accompanist is unavailable. As a favor, would you mind filling in?"

"Miss Beazley," he said, nodding to her. "Do you have a playlist?"

"It's Mrs. Beazley, actually," she said. She handed him her typed list of songs. "Mister Blake. Or do I call you 'Major'?"

"Please, no. That's Matthew's little joke. 'Lucien' will do, or 'Blake'."

"And I'm Jean," she said as he looked over her songs. "I have sheet music for any you don't know."

"I think we're good. A run-through for the right key and tempo?" he suggested.

"I'll leave you to it then," said Matthew. "If you need anything, I'll be in the office."

Jean had the impression she'd seen Lucien before, a long time before, but she couldn't place where or when. Surely she would have remembered him.

She put it out of her mind to concentrate on the business at hand. "How would you like to go about this?" she asked. "Do you want to start playing and I'll let you know?"

"Why don't you start singing and I'll pick it up from there?" he suggested.

Jean lifted an eyebrow. "Which song would you like to start with?"

"You can decide," he told her. "It's your show."

Jean wondered if he was really that good or just overconfident and trying to impress her. She decided to find out by picking a more obscure song to begin. "All right." And she began to sing 'End of the Line' in the manner of Nina Simone.

Within the first few bars he had joined in, matching his playing to her voice seamlessly. She was impressed. It hadn't been boasting or overconfidence after all. She tried a couple of other songs to vary the tone and pace, and once again he was up to the challenge.

When they paused for a break, she wanted to find out more about him. "Where else do you perform?" she asked. "Are you a session musician for one of the big recording companies?"

"No, I'm not a member of the Wrecking Crew, if that's what you're wondering," he said with a grin, referring to the legendary group of session musicians who had performed on many of the most iconic record albums of all time. "I try to avoid recording companies at all costs. Mostly I play here when Matt needs someone to fill in. He's an old friend."

"I see," said Jean, but she really didn't. Maybe if tonight's audition worked out she would get to know him better, find out his story. One of the things she loved about the music business was the kinds of people she met, most of them with interesting personal histories.

"What about you?" he asked her. "Where have you sung recently?"

"Recently? Mostly a handful of one-night-only jobs. I'm just getting back into the business after a long break to raise my children," she explained.

"You have a lovely voice. It shouldn't take you long to develop a following. Are you looking for a recording career?"

"At the moment I'm just looking for a job that will pay the rent," she sighed.

"Then I wish you all the best for tonight. Most of the regular patrons here are knowledgeable fans of the blues. If you give them an honest effort, they'll support you."

"Thank you, that's good to know." She thought he seemed to be on her side, which would definitely help her get through her set. "Shall we get back to it then?"

They went over the remainder of the songs on her intended playlist, and when they were finished she thanked him profusely as he handed back her list.

"So what do you think?" she asked him, holding out the sheet of paper.

"The songs you've chosen highlight your voice very nicely."

She sensed his hesitation. "But what?" she prompted.

"Do you really want my input?"

"I really do," she insisted. "I've been away from this for quite a while."

"Have you considered closing with something more... memorable? Something to send them away with the thought that they've enjoyed themselves and they'd really like to come back and hear you again."

"Such as?" She arched an eyebrow at him, but she also thought his idea was a good one.

"Something familiar, upbeat. And if they can sing along, all the better."

"Does this 'something' have a name?" she teased him.

"I was thinking a fast version of 'Didn't It Rain'," he explained, demonstrating the tempo on the piano.

She nodded along, then began to sing the words. When she got to the 'call and response' section, though, she stopped. He did as well.

"What is it?" he asked.

"What if no one joins in? Won't I look ridiculous?"

"Jean Beazley, you're a beautiful woman. You will never look ridiculous," he assured her. "If it will make you feel better, I give you my word I will start the 'call and response' until everyone else joins in as well. Which I have absolutely no doubt will happen."

"Well, then, I guess that's settled. Anything else?"

"Just one more suggestion. Do you have something prepared for an encore?"

"An encore? You don't really think... Do you?"

"I do," he said, flashing her that brilliant smile yet again.

It took her a moment to recover her composure yet again. "Er, how about something not strictly blues, like 'The Long and Winding Road'?"

"Perfect." He played several bars to be sure they were in agreement on the tempo.

"When Matthew indicated to me that you could play just about any song, he wasn't kidding, was he?" she said.

He laughed, then leaned forward conspiratorially. "When we were much younger Matthew and I used to play a drinking game where if he could name a song that I couldn't play, I would buy the drinks. If he didn't stump me, he would have to pay. He bought a lot of drinks, so he thinks I can play anything. The truth is he just doesn't know that many songs."

She laughed along with him.

"Now, is there anything else you need for tonight?" he asked, getting back to the business at hand.

"A place to get ready?"

"Ah, a dressing room. Of course. Come with me, please." He led her behind the "stage" area where he used a key to open a door, then flicked on the lights and allowed her to enter first. "Only two rooms back here," he explained. "The band uses the other one so..."

He picked up a stack of books and a guitar case. "Just have to move out a few things and it's all yours."

He was giving her his dressing room, she realized. "I don't want to toss you out," she began.

"You can hardly share with the band," he pointed out. "It's fine. I'll just put these in Matt's office. No worries. Anything else? Do you need passes for family or friends?"

She considered. There was no way her son Jack would show up, but if she told Christopher he might want to give his mother some support. "Just one, I think. My son, Christopher."

"What about your husband?"

Jean paused, then decided she had no reason not to tell him the truth. "I'm a widow. My husband was killed in Iraq some time ago. The first Gulf War."

She saw a flash of intense pain in his eyes, and his hands clenched tightly. Had he lost someone close to him there as well, she wondered.

"I'm so very sorry," he told her.

"Thank you," she said softly. Not wanting to dwell on it, she looked around the small room. A serviceable mirror above a table for makeup and hair supplies, a rack with hangers for her clothes, a chair and a small couch, and she could see a tiny but clean bathroom beyond. "This should be fine," she told him.

"Perfect," he said, handing her the key. "I'll leave you to it, then. Until this evening. A pleasure, Jean."

"Thank you, Lucien, for all your help. Until this evening."


	2. Chapter 2

When she reached her tiny studio apartment, Jean began to make a list of all the things she had to do before her debut that evening. She glanced at the clock over her bookcase stuffed with not only books but CDs and vinyl record albums. Three hours before she would leave to return to the club. Not enough time to get her hair done - she would have to do it herself. A fresh coat of nail polish was a necessity, something vibrant that would stand out as she held the microphone.

And what to wear? Her little black dress? No, something more memorable. As Lucien had reminded her, she should leave them wanting to come back to see her again. It would have to be the dark green dress then, the one with the slight sheen to it. No use saving it for the right occasion. If she didn't get this gig, well... She refused to think about that.

She had finished her nails and was packing the make-up items she would need into her little travel case when her phone sounded. She looked at the screen to see it was her elder son, Christopher. He had to be calling to find out about the job interview.

"Hello, sweetheart," she said, smiling as she pictured the earnest look on his face.

"Well, how did it go?" he asked.

"I have a gig for tonight, and if it goes well, it will be a regular thing," she told him.

"That's great, Mum. I'm sure you'll knock them dead." He paused a moment. "What about an accompanist? Didn't you say Billy is out of town?"

"I'm through with Billy," she said bitterly. "He's too undependable."

"But what will you do about tonight?"

"Already taken care of," she assured him. "There's a pianist who works there sometimes, and he makes Billy look like a hack anyway. We did a run-through of the set, and he's fantastic. Wait until you hear him. You _can_ come tonight, can't you? Please say yes."

"Yes, of course. I wouldn't miss your opening."

"Good. I left your name with them, so there should be a pass waiting for you."

"This is a good place, right? You aren't just taking it because you need the money?"

"I am taking it because I need the money, but it also seems like a good place. The manager seems to be a decent man, and Lucien, the pianist, couldn't have been kinder or more generous."

"Oh?" said Christopher.

"Don't start," she warned him, recognizing the note in his voice. His father had been gone for many years now, and Chris thought it was past time for her to find love again.

"What? Is he married? Gay? Old and ugly?"

She laughed. "He certainly isn't old or ugly," she said. "As for married or gay, or both, I have no idea."

"Oh, come on, Mum. Did he flirt with you?"

"He thought I was married right up until the last minute, then when I told him about your father there was something... oh, I don't know. Anyway, no, he didn't flirt with me, nor did I flirt with him. It was all very professional. Now if you're finished trying to arrange my romantic life, I'll go back to getting ready for tonight."

"You don't have a romantic life for me to arrange, remember?" Chris reminded her. "But I'll let you get back to it, and I'll see you tonight. You'll be great, Mum. You always are."

"Thank you, sweetheart. See you then."

As she finished preparing for her big night, she had to keep cautioning herself not to assume the job was hers on a more permanent basis. Several times she caught herself thinking how she could change up her set, or what she could add if Matthew wanted her to do extra sets. Would she need to find a replacement for Billy if she was performing regularly? Surely she couldn't expect Lucien to be available every time she performed. Although it would be nice. She thought they made a great team, but with his talent surely he was in demand at bigger, more exclusive venues. Tonight he was just doing a favor for Matthew, wasn't he?

She put her green dress into a garment bag, then turned to the problem of shoes. She had sworn to treat herself to a new pair as soon as she found steady employment, a Christmas gift to herself, but for now her options were limited. She supposed she'd have to go with her old dependable black heels that had certainly seen better days. She shined them up as best she could and slide them into the bottom of the garment bag.

She would do her hair at the club, but for now she gave it a quick brush and touched up her make-up, telling herself it had nothing to do with whether she might run into Lucien on the way to the dressing room.

* * *

Matthew Lawson entered his office at the club and frowned to see Lucien's guitar case and other belongings piled in one corner. Lucien himself was seated on the couch, reading.

"What's all this?"

Lucien looked up from his book. "She couldn't very well dress in the same room as the band."

"No, I suppose not," said Matthew, making his way behind his desk. "So, tell me, what did you think of her?"

"Lovely voice. A bit nervous, which is understandable, and she could use a little guidance in her musical choices, but she did say she's been out of the business for a while." He paused and smiled. "I think she'd be a wonderful addition, assuming she connects with the audience tonight."

"Yes, assuming that," said Matthew. "Not a diva then?"

"No, she seems very pleasant to work with, and open to suggestions."

"I'll leave that side of things to you, then." He gave Lucien a sly look. "I'm sure you won't mind too much."

"No, I don't mind," said Lucien, ignoring the look. "She said her son will probably be here tonight to support her. I let Charlie know to comp a ticket for him."

Matthew nodded. "Will you open for her? We can't expect her to go out there to a cold audience."

Lucien nodded. "Just a few songs for me, I think, then I can introduce her. If she does well though, we're going to have to get the band in for a day of rehearsals with her. Her voice deserves more than just a piano to back it."

Matthew sighed. "Yes, I suppose you're right. I'll let them know they're on the clock all day, assuming as you said the audience responds to her. Might as well try to do it tomorrow. You'll be here to work with them on the arrangements?"

"If I can sleep here," he said, patting the couch he was sitting on. "It's hardly worth driving to Malibu for a few hours at home, then driving back in the morning."

"We have a spare bedroom, as you very well know," Matthew pointed out. "Come home with me. You know Alice won't mind. She'll be very glad to see you."

"Especially if I offer to cook breakfast," Lucien laughed.

"Yes, well, there's that," Matthew admitted. "Although with the baby on the way, she's become obsessed with thinking she needs to learn to cook. As if the baby will starve otherwise."

"How's she feeling? Still good?"

"Very good, actually. Not a trace of morning sickness. She wouldn't stand for it anyway."

"Probably not," Lucien agreed.

"It's settled then, you'll spend the night with us tonight. I'll just call Alice to let her know."

Lucien stood up and set his book aside. "I'll leave you to it. Have to figure out what to play tonight anyway."

* * *

Jean arrived at the club and proceeded directly to "her" dressing room to drop off the garment bag and make-up case. She could hear piano music coming from the direction of the stage area. Assuming it was Lucien playing, she went to thank him again for his assistance and to make sure she knew what she could expect tonight.

He was playing a slow, very mournful version of Saint James Infirmary Blues. "You'll have the audience crying into their beers with that one," she told him with a smile.

"Can't have that. Twenty-year-old scotch, maybe, but not beer," he said, standing and returning her smile. "Do you have everything you need for tonight?"

"I think so," she told him. "But how do I know when to go on?"

"Matthew asked me to play a few songs as a warmup for you, then I'll introduce you." He nodded toward the piano. "That won't be one of the warmup songs, I promise."

"Thank you. And thank you for everything. I really need this job."

"You're very welcome, and you'll do just fine. Just look them in the eye and give them your best. They'll support you."

"Will it be crowded? It's a Wednesday night, after all. And the week before Christmas."

"It's pretty crowded most nights," said Lucien. "A lot of regulars come two or three nights a week. To be honest, there isn't a lot to do in this neighborhood after dark, so the locals who don't want to deal with traffic or parking prefer this place. Especially around the holidays."

"I noticed it's primarily a residential neighborhood. Are you a local?"

"I might as well be, for all the time I spend around here, but no, I live near the beach actually. Matthew and his wife Alice live just around the corner, though. That's why he bought this place."

"I see," she said, filing away the fact that he lived near the beach. That accounted for his tan. "Well, I'd better start getting ready." She noted that a young man was out at the front, preparing to unlock the doors, and the elderly bartender was setting out glasses and bar ware.

"If you need anything, I'll be upstairs in the office. Otherwise, I'll see you on stage."

* * *

She looked in the mirror and nodded. She had never been a vain woman, but she had to admit she didn't look too bad for a woman her age. The dress had been a great investment in her career, she decided. And her hair had turned out better than she could have hoped without having it done professionally. She was as ready as she could be.

Satisfied, she left the dressing room and walked toward the stage area. She heard a large round of applause as she stepped into the darkened space just beyond it. Lucien, wearing a nicely cut, dark three-piece suit with an open-necked white shirt, had moved into the lights and sat down at the piano. Obviously he was a crowd favorite.

Watching him work in front of an audience, she could see just how good he was. Not just his playing, which was brilliant, but his rapport with them, too. He had them all on his side before the first song was finished. She hoped she could do half as well.

Looking out beyond the stage, she spotted her son Christopher seated at a small table near the front with Matthew Lawson and a very pregnant woman that she assumed was Mrs. Lawson. She figured it was a good sign for her that Matthew was seated by her son. He must want her to succeed.

Before she knew it, Lucien was looking in her direction. She nodded to him that she was ready.

"And now, I ask you to give a warm welcome to a very talented lady who is making her debut with us tonight. I'm quite sure you're going to enjoy the singing of Ms. Jean Beazley." He held out a hand toward her, and she headed to him with a big smile. They kissed each other on the cheek, and then she stepped up to the microphone.

She focused on Christopher as she began the first song, and he smiled and nodded his encouragement. Using that, she began to look around at the others. They seemed to be encouraging as well. Her confidence grew at the applause when she finished it, and she launched quickly into the next one, and then the next. A glance at Lucien saw him grinning at her and managing a 'thumbs up' gesture without missing a note.

An hour later she arrived at her final song, the one Lucien had suggested, 'Didn't It Rain'. The crowd was thoroughly on her side by this time, and they joined right in. Many were clapping along, and when she finished there were whistles of approval along with the thunderous applause.

Jean was glad they had prepared an encore, and when she finished it, again there were loud cheers. She gestured to Lucien, who moved over to take her hand and kiss it before he stepped up to the microphone and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, Jean Beazley." He wanted them to remember her name, she realized.

She felt positively giddy as she made her way back to the dressing room. The evening had gone better than she could possibly have hoped. The buzz she felt reminded her why she had wanted a career in show business in the first place. There was nothing like it.

She had just finishing changing back into her skirt and blouse when there was a knock on the dressing room door. She knew it had to be Christopher; she was only surprised that he hadn't come sooner.

She opened the door, a big smile on her face, which grew larger when he handed her a huge bouquet of roses. He kissed her on the cheek. "I knew you'd be terrific."

"It did go well, didn't it?" she said.

"Just about perfect," he confirmed. "And Matthew Lawson asked if you could stop by and see him before you leave."

She lifted a questioning eyebrow.

"I think he wants to get your name on a contract before anyone else finds out how good you are," said Christopher. "He was that impressed with your performance. I'm so proud of you, Mum."

Hugging him, she said, "Thank you so much for being here. It means the world to me."

"I'll try to get Jack to come with me next time," he promised. "Now you should go see your boss."

"Come with me," she urged, reaching out a hand to her sensible, dependable son. She hadn't negotiated a contract in many years and could use some moral support.

He clasped her hand and nodded. "I wouldn't miss it. My mum the star."

"Hardly," she said, arching an eyebrow. Then she laughed, tugging him out the door.

Lucien was just sitting down at the table with Matthew Lawson and his wife when Jean and Christopher emerged. He stood up again and pulled out a chair for Jean, then moved to sit across from her. Matthew introduced his wife Alice to her, and a round of drinks was brought for all of them, with a ginger ale for Alice. Christopher declined the alcohol, saying he had to drive home.

"Now, then," said Matthew, "we're very pleased with what we saw this evening."

"You were wonderful," said Alice.

Matthew gave her a look, but Alice just glared back at him, refusing to back down. He finally returned his attention to Jean. "Yes, well, anyway, we would very much like you to become a regular with us."

"Us?" Jean needed this job, but she also needed to know exactly what she was getting into. Were there other bosses she didn't know about?

She saw Matthew glance at Lucien, who gave him a brief nod.

"Yes, the three owners," he said. "Myself, Alice and the major. We all agree that you'd be a great attraction. Anywhere up to four nights a week. It's your choice how often to work."

"Four nights a week?" They weren't kidding about it being a regular gig. If the pay was anywhere near what they'd offered her for the audition night she might be able to afford a decent-sized apartment before long. "Yes, I think that would work just fine," she said.

"You'll want to read through this," said Matthew, handing her a standard entertainment contract with a very attractive compensation amount written in. "If you need to have an attorney or agent review it first, you're certainly welcome to do so."

Jean looked at Christopher, then at Lucien, who wore just a slight smile as though not wanting to influence her in any manner. But Jean had always been a woman who'd known her own mind. She had seen no evidence of deceit or impropriety from either Matthew or Lucien. They had shown her nothing but decency.

"An attorney won't be necessary," she said. "Just give me a moment, please."

She read through it. There was nothing out of the ordinary. It was fair and equitable. She picked up the proffered pen and signed the copy. Matthew did the same with the copy he held, then they exchanged them and signed again.

"You keep that one," said Matthew, as he put his copy into a folder. "You can take care of the rest of the paperwork tomorrow."

"Welcome to our little family," said Alice, smiling and holding out a hand to Jean. "If you have any problem whatsoever with these two," she indicated Matthew and Lucien, "you come to me and I'll keep them in line."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary, but I'll keep it in mind," said Jean, returning the smile. She had a feeling she and Alice would get along just fine.


	3. Chapter 3

For a change, Jean fixed herself an actual breakfast instead of grabbing a cup of coffee on her way out the door. With no commitments until the 11:00 rehearsal at the club, she had most of the morning to herself. And after her years of working as a hotel housekeeper, she still got up early every day, even with the hangover she was currently nursing. Of course, the habit of rising at the crack of dawn might have to change, now that she would be working until the early hours of the morning several times a week.

She could hardly believe it still, but looking at the sizable check for the prior evening's work she thought that maybe she'd begun a new chapter in her life. The first chapter had been growing up on the farm near Fresno, the second was her time as a wife widowed young and raising her boys alone, and now this. It might just be that one of her childhood dreams was going to come true, although she doubted it would lead to traveling the world and seeing exotic places. But for now, knowing she was a professional singer was enough.

The timing of it all could scarcely have been better, too. For the first time in many years she could buy real Christmas gifts for her family. She knew they appreciated the effort she put into making their gifts other years, but in Southern California how many hand-knitted scarves and hats could one person use?

Thoughts of Christmas reminded her that she should ask about performing a Christmas-themed show for next week. The club would be closed for Christmas Eve and Day, but surely they should give a nod to the holidays. She'd ask at rehearsal later. At least she wouldn't have to deal with the undependable (and frankly unpleasant) Billy Munro any more, since the club had a band of its own. It was a relief not to have to worry about lining up an accompanist, but she wondered if that meant no longer having Lucien with her on stage. Surely the band had its own pianist and didn't depend on one of the club's owners. She seemed to be seeing Lucien in a whole different light now that she knew he was an owner.

She lingered over her second cup of coffee. It was then that she realized she would have to arrange a ride to work, since her car was still at the club. Christopher had insisted on driving her home after she had had too much to drink. There was no subway line near enough, and if she went by bus it would require three changes. She was just considering Uber when her phone sounded. Caller ID showed it was the club. Was there a change to the rehearsal time, she wondered.

The caller was Matthew. "Good morning. How are you feeling?"

"Not too bad," she assured him, "but it's been a while since I had so much to drink."

"Then it's a good thing your son was there to drive you home."

"Yes, but I was just trying to figure out the best way to get to rehearsal without my car."

"And that's why I'm calling," said Matthew. "We were just talking about last night, and when Alice mentioned your car was still here and how would you get in, Lucien offered to pick you up."

"That's very kind of him," said Jean.

"It is," Matthew agreed. "But neither he nor I felt comfortable with him having your home address without your permission."

"Oh," said Jean. Was there any reason for him not to know it? She instinctively trusted him, and the fact that they were asking her permission was reassuring. "Yes, of course he can have it. I would appreciate a ride."

She could hear the two men talking before Matthew came back on the line. "He said he can be there in an hour, if that works for you."

"That's perfect. Please tell him I appreciate his thoughtfulness."

"I will," said Matthew, "but next time I'll just let you two talk directly instead of playing the go-between."

She laughed. She had learned last night that beneath Matthew's sometimes grumpy exterior was a caring and considerate gentleman. "Thank you, Matthew," she said. "I'll see you later."

She washed up the breakfast dishes and tidied up her tiny apartment before getting ready for rehearsal. In case they agreed with her suggestion for a Christmas-themed set, she pulled all of her holiday records and CDs off the bookshelf, stacking them on the table. With no performance for her that night, she could spend the evening going through them to choose the songs she might want to include.

She had just finished fixing her hair when the door buzzer indicated Lucien had arrived downstairs. She opened the intercom to tell him she was on her way down, then picked up her purse and her trusty messenger bag and headed out.

He stood on the doorstep, wearing jeans and a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his hair slightly tousled. Jean couldn't ignore that he was a very good-looking man.

"Good morning," he greeted her.

"Yes, it is," she said. "The weather is just perfect."

"I hope you don't mind, but I've put the top down," he said, waving his hand toward a bright blue, vintage Mustang convertible.

She smiled. "I don't mind at all. What a lovely car."

"Thank you. I bought it new with the proceeds from my first job many, many years ago," he said, as he opened the door for her.

"It must have been a good job," Jean noted. "What did you do?"

After a brief pause he said, "I worked for my father, which accounts for the healthy paychecks."

When he had gotten into the car, Jean asked, "Are you a native Angeleno?"

"I grew up here, but I was actually born in Australia, a country town by the name of Ballarat. We moved here to Los Angeles when I was small." He pulled into the flow of traffic.

"Oh, so that's why no trace of an accent," said Jean.

"Not usually, no," said Lucien. "I have been known to curse in Australian, though." He took his eyes off the road briefly and grinned at her. "'Bloody hell' is the phrase I prefer."

"I see," said Jean, with a mock frown. "And since most people here wouldn't even recognize that as a curse, you can get away with it."

"That's right. And what about you? A native?"

"Of California, yes, but I grew up in the Central Valley, on a farm near Fresno."

"And what brought you south, aside from the glorious weather?"

"Stars in my eyes, of course. I always wanted to be a singer. When I met my Christopher, though, I was sidetracked for a while, being a wife and mother. Not that I regret it for a moment."

"Your son Christopher seems like a fine young man," Lucien told her.

"Yes, he is. And what about you? Why did the family leave Australia?"

"The same reason as you, show biz. My father is a producer. When he outgrew Ballarat, he needed bigger worlds to conquer."

"That must have been difficult on your mother."

"She was a painter at the time, so she could work pretty much anywhere."

"You say she was a painter at the time. She doesn't paint now?"

He shook his head and flexed his fingers around the steering wheel. "Arthritis. Too painful for her to hold a brush."

"I'm sorry," said Jean. "That must be very difficult for her. Do you see them often, your parents?"

She saw him grimace, and he paused before he said, "No, not very often. My father and I have our differences."

"That's too bad. You can't just see your mother?"

"I don't want her caught in the middle. He thinks she's being disloyal if she sees me without him."

"But you're her son!" Jean protested, before realizing it wasn't her business to get involved in his family problems. "I'm sorry, it's not my place."

"Quite all right," he assured her, and he seemed to mean it. She decided he must be resigned to the situation, but she couldn't imagine a mother not wanting to see her son. The fact that her own son Jack visited so infrequently was a continuing source of heartache for Jean.

Thankfully they pulled up to the front of the club shortly thereafter. He let her out at the door before pulling the car around to the parking area in the rear. The club door was opened for her by the young man she'd seen up front the night before. He was good-looking with his wavy dark hair and winning smile.

"Charlie Davis," he said by way of introduction. "I heard you last night, Mrs. Beazley. You're very good."

"Thank you, Charlie. A pleasure to meet you."

"Go on in, ma'am," he told her. "Most of the band is here already."

With a nod by way of thanks, she strode into the main room. She could see a drummer, a bass player, a guitarist, a keyboard player, and some horns. Enough to provide a nice, rich sound, she thought.

She walked up to them somewhat hesitantly, not sure whom she should be speaking with until Lucien appeared and clapped his hands together. "Shall we?" he asked. He directed Jean to the microphone so she and the band could get the same sound they would get in a performance, then he started describing what he wanted from each musician, always looking for ways to highlight Jean's vocals. He continually sought her input so that she never felt left out of the decisions.

Jean was even more impressed with his skills. She had never really had anyone work out custom arrangements for her. The few times she had sung in front of an actual band rather than just an accompanist, she was expected to adapt her interpretation to the way they played a song. This, on the other hand, was like working with a producer.

_A producer._ She remembered what he'd said about his father being a producer, but she'd assumed he meant a film producer. Maybe the elder Blake was a record producer instead, and Lucien had learned the skills when working for him. She decided to Google it when she had an opportunity.

They finished by working on two different songs she would be able to use for an encore, her choice. By the time they wrapped up she could hardly wait to perform for an audience, she felt so good about what they'd put together. And she knew who was principally responsible.

As everyone was packing up to go, she sought out Lucien. "Thank you, for the ride here and for all of this." She waved a hand toward the band members who were heading toward the door. "I've never had this kind of backing."

"My pleasure," he said. "Your voice deserves this kind of support."

She smiled broadly at that. "Anyway, I'd like to show my appreciation. Maybe you'd let me treat you to a coffee and a bite to eat?"

"I'd like that very much," Lucien began, "but I have a set tonight."

"And I'm working tomorrow night," she said, feeling disappointed. She wanted to know him better.

"How about after tomorrow's show then?" he suggested, looking hopeful.

"That will work for me," she said.

"Then it's a date," he confirmed.

"It is. One more thing - I was wondering if I ought to prepare a set with holiday songs for next week's shows."

"Would you like to?" he asked. "I'm not sure we can get arrangements prepared for the band, but I can accompany you if you want to do it."

"That sounds perfect," she told him. "I'll work on a list of songs for it tonight, and let you know tomorrow. Thank you again, and I'll leave you to get ready for your set. Have a good show."

She wore a big smile as she walked out.


	4. Chapter 4

All the way home, Jean had to keep reminding herself that she had no idea about Lucien's marital status or, as Christopher had pointed out, even his sexual preference, so this was not a date. But her heart ignored her. _This was definitely a date._

She parked the car, gathered her bags, negotiated the front door of the building (which always seemed to stick when the temperature got warm), and made her way upstairs to her flat. With only two months remaining on her lease, she decided to start looking for a new place, now that she had the commitment to a much better paying job.

For that job she needed a list of Christmas songs to give to Lucien. She took off her shoes, made herself a pot of tea, and sat down on the couch that also served as her bed. She started with the CDs of holiday music. She knew before she even started that 'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas' and 'O Holy Night' would have to be included, but what else? Maybe something from the Manhattan Transfer's holiday album? Or Cyndi Lauper's? She set those two to the side, thinking she would listen to some of the more obscure songs in hopes of finding something fresh to sing.

'Baby, It's Cold Outside' was a distinct possibility, but it required a duet. Could she talk Lucien into singing it with her, she wondered. That could be a lot of fun.

She moved on to the vinyl albums, many of which had come to her at her mother's passing. She hadn't gone through them in quite a while, but she remembered listening to a number of them every year when she was growing up. There was one of just instrumental music, she recalled, by a gorgeous young classical pianist on whom she'd had a crush, based solely on his cover and liner photos. What was his name again?

She flipped through the stack looking for that particular record, and suddenly a pair of very familiar blue eyes were staring up at her. Lucien. The pianist on whom she'd had a crush all those years ago was none other than Lucien Blake. He'd only been known by the one name back then, but there was not a trace of doubt in her mind that it was the same person. No wonder he'd looked vaguely familiar when she first met him.

She looked at the liner notes. The album had been produced by Thomas Blake, obviously his father the producer. There was a brief biography, too. Born in Australia, moved to the U.S. at the age of eight. Performing professionally since he was sixteen. Had played to sold-out audiences at Carnegie Hall, the Royal Albert Hall, the Sydney Opera House, and the Hollywood Bowl. Larger venues indeed!

The question was, why was a classically trained pianist who had headlined at the Hollywood Bowl now playing blues songs in a small club? The liner notes had no explanation for that, probably because the album had been released while he was still at the height of his classical career. She wondered if it had anything to do with his being estranged from his father. Was the elder Blake angry that Lucien had ended his classical career? Or did Lucien walk away from it because of the estrangement from his father?

She warred with herself about checking the internet for more information. She didn't want to seem like she was stalking him. She decided she would just Google his father, as she had planned to do before she'd learned this bombshell about the man himself.

She fired up her ancient laptop, wondering how long it would be before she could comfortably afford to replace it. She waited even more impatiently than usual as it booted up and connected, then she typed 'Thomas Blake music producer' into the search bar. It took a while, but soon she was presented with a number of entries.

One seemed to have a photo of the man, so she clicked on that one first. When it opened there was a larger photo of him. He didn't look much like Lucien - his face was much thinner and without those fabulous cheekbones or startlingly blue eyes.

According to the article, he lived in Pacific Palisades, a very exclusive enclave of wealthy celebrities, perched on cliffs overlooking the ocean. Married to Geneviève Étienne, a renowned painter known for her stylized portraits. Two sons, Thomas, Jr., now deceased, and the classical pianist known simply as Lucien. There was a link to separate articles on both Geneviève and Lucien, but Jean resisted the urge to snoop any further. She would ask Lucien tomorrow night, when they were alone together. She felt she owed him that much after all the kindness he'd shown her.

Virtuously she shut down the computer and returned to the task of selecting songs for her Christmas set. She wondered how Lucien's show was going. Of course, a few hundred people in a small club hardly compared to seventeen thousand or more at the Hollywood Bowl, so it was no wonder he had seemed so comfortable with the audience. She thought she would love to see him do a whole show. Did he play the piano the whole time or sing, too, she wondered. The little she'd heard of it showed he had a lovely voice.

She scolded herself for behaving like a teenager mooning over a singer in a boy band. Wasn't it bad enough that she'd Googled his father? If she wasn't careful she'd see him writing her off as a crazed fan.

* * *

Lucien stood at the stage entrance and looked down. He wore a dark three-piece suit and a white shirt, open at the collar. His shoes were shined to a brilliant finish. One of the few pieces of advice from his father that Lucien still heeded was that he owed it to his audience. They spent money and time to come to a performance, so they deserved the consideration of having him look his best for them.

Satisfied, he looked out to see the barman, Cec Drury, waiting for his signal. Lucien nodded to him, and Cec turned out the lights above the stage for a few moments. When the audience had settled down in anticipation, a single large spotlight came on above the piano. A moment later Lucien stepped into the circle of light, gave a slight bow to acknowledge the applause, and then sat down at the keyboard. He launched into a medley of Ray Charles songs.

The crowd was responsive, applauding enthusiastically and even singing along to some of them. He moved on to a couple of slower songs and then to some upbeat gospel tunes. He may not have been a religious man himself, but he did appreciate the beauty of many traditional gospel songs. It made him think that Jean might want to adapt some of Bessie Smith's work for her set. Next he went to a couple of songs that he sang as well as played, Doctor John's 'Such a Night' and an old standard, 'Trouble in Mind'.

He continued on and was nearing the end of the set when the disturbance first started. He could hear something occurring near the bar, which was basically behind him. He tried to ignore it, confident that if Cec couldn't handle it himself, Charlie Davis would step in. Slightly rowdy drunks were not unknown. They usually showed up to the club already three sheets to the wind, and became upset or belligerent when Cec wouldn't serve them even more drinks.

This one followed the same pattern, except that he turned his belligerence not on Cec but on Lucien. "Look at you up there," he said rather loudly, causing Lucien to twist so he could see the man while still playing.

The crowd was not happy with the disturbance and showed their displeasure, but the inebriated man ignored them and continued to shout. "Lucien Bloody Blake. Your father must be ashamed at knowing you're in a place like this, playing that junk. What happened to doing your best, eh?"

Lucien stiffened, and for just a moment fumbled over the song, but the audience barely noticed as Charlie had arrived on the scene to escort the man out, locking his arm up behind his back so that the man was too irate at Charlie to continue his tirade against Lucien.

When the heckler was gone and the crowd had turned back to the stage, Lucien was still shaken but launched into the first song he could think of, 'Hit the Road, Jack'. The audience members cheered and immediately joined in quite enthusiastically.

Almost on autopilot, he played 'Good Night, Irene', then took a quick bow and left the stage. No amount of applause could bring him back for an encore - he had fled upstairs to Matthew's office, all the time wishing he still had a dressing room of his own and some privacy. The sounds of gunfire and explosions were ringing in his ears, and despite knowing that they weren't real, he couldn't seem to make them stop.

He didn't know how long it continued until he heard, as if from a great distance, his mobile phone begin to ring. With some effort, he patted his pockets looking for it, only then realizing he still wore the suit. The phone was in his jeans pocket since he never brought it onstage with him.

Stiffly, feeling twice his actual age, he made his way across to where his jeans were hanging and dug out the phone. He knew who it was before he even saw the screen. Cec or Charlie must have called her.

"Hello, Alice," he said, trying to keep his distress out of his voice. "Aren't you on maternity leave?"

"I'm your friend as well as your therapist," she reminded him.

"Of course you are," he conceded. "And which one is calling at this moment?"

"Whichever one you need at this moment," she said. "How are you? Do you need to come over here?"

He paused, taking stock of his current state. "I'm much better now."

"Really?" Her skepticism was clear.

"Really," he insisted.

"Very well then, but I don't like the idea of you driving home just yet."

"Don't worry. I'll stay around and help Cec close up first."

"All right, but I want you to promise me that if you're still feeling off after that, you'll spend the night here. Promise me, Lucien."

"Alice, it sounds like your maternal instincts are kicking in early," he chided her, hoping for a playful tone.

She wasn't in a playful mood it seemed. "Promise me," she repeated.

"Very well, I promise," he sighed.

"Good," she said. "Make sure you get plenty of sleep tonight. Take a pill if you need to."

"Yes, Mum. Good night," he teased.

"Good night."

He took a moment to splash water on his face and comb his hair from where he'd been running his hands through it. Satisfied, he went down to the bar to help Cec.


	5. Chapter 5

In the morning Jean was so busy thinking about dinner after the show that she had no time to be nervous about the performance itself. After getting up at her usual early hour, she cleaned the apartment to keep herself busy, then made a batch of her shortbread, decorated it with holiday colored sprinkles and packed it into a Christmas-themed tin to take with her to work. She decided to go to the club early so she and Lucien could discuss the songs she proposed for next week's special set.

She pulled her car into the parking area, noting that Lucien's Mustang was there. Did the man ever go home, she wondered. There were no other cars yet, so apparently none of the band members had arrived.

She let herself inside through the back door using the key she'd been given, and after dropping her personal items in the dressing room, she decided to look for Lucien to offer him cookies and discuss the songs.

She heard the faint sound of voices from upstairs. Figuring that it was probably Matthew and Lucien, she took the tin with her as she went up. She didn't mean to eavesdrop, but their voices were not quiet. They seemed to be having a disagreement of some kind.

"He won't be back," Matthew insisted. "Charlie will see to that."

"If it isn't Jock Clement again, it will just be someone else," Lucien sighed. "It was bound to happen."

"Does he really think he can shame you into going back? Especially after all this time. He doesn't know you very well, does he?"

Lucien laughed, but there was no humor behind it. "He's never known me at all. He could never be bothered."

"But why now?" Matthew asked. "If he's been keeping tabs on you all this time, as you said, why start pressuring you now?"

"As a guess, I'd say Dad needs new acts for the company. Probably under pressure to deliver more sales. And with the charity ball coming up soon, he thinks he can use that to re-launch my classical career."

"What about you? Any thoughts of going back to all that?"

"You know bloody well I can't even if I wanted to, Matthew. Besides, I'm content here, or I was until Clement showed up."

"Alice insists she can help you, if you ever want to, you know, go back to being a big star."

"I was never a big star, not really. Not like Yo-Yo Ma or Horowitz. I was more of a novelty. And after all this time away from it, it would take me years to get back the form I'd need."

"Afraid of a little hard work, are you?" Matthew teased.

"Leave it be, Matthew," said Lucien, an edge to his voice.

"All right, sorry. It's your life. But Alice would still like to talk to you when you have some time."

Jean silently retreated down the stairs, thinking about what she'd overheard. There must have been some kind of disturbance during Lucien's set the night before. Someone he knew, someone sent by his father, or so Lucien thought. But what did he mean about not being able to go back to that life? It certainly didn't appear to be anything physical - he still played the piano brilliantly. It didn't seem likely that he'd been blackballed by the record companies, not if his father was trying to pressure him to return.

While she was musing, she heard the two men coming downstairs. It was the first time she'd noticed how heavily Matthew limped. To avoid embarrassing him she put on a big smile. "There you are," she called out. "I was just going to look for you two." She held out the tin of cookies. "I had a productive morning and thought you might like some of the product."

Matthew dived right in. "Thank you, Jean. Alice isn't much of a baker," he said.

Lucien smirked, knowing exactly how limited Alice's kitchen skills were.

Jean frowned at him then told Matthew, "She's a professional woman. She doesn't have time to cook and bake."

"That's right," Lucien echoed. "You should be on kitchen duty, Matthew."

"I don't have to," retorted Matthew. "I have an old friend who does it for me in exchange for sleeping over."

"Ah," said Jean, understanding why Lucien was at the club so early. He didn't go home every night, he stayed at Matthew and Alice's place. She studied him, in light of the information she now knew about his past. Not wanting him to catch her, though, she looked away whenever he looked toward her. Which seemed to be often.

Matthew must have picked up on the interplay between the two of them. "What's going on?" he asked, looking first at Lucien, then at Jean.

"She knows," Lucien sighed.

"Knows what?"

"Who I used to be."

"Oh. Well, it's not like you were a pimp or a drug dealer."

They both smiled at that, albeit Lucien somewhat ironically.

"I'm embarrassed to say I had a major crush on you when I was about thirteen years old," Jean admitted. "My mother had your Christmas album, and I loved the photo of you on the cover. All those beautiful golden curls," she teased him, making him blush. "I used to hold it in my hands and waltz around the living room with you."

"Maybe you should grow those curls out again," Matthew laughed.

"Very funny," said Lucien.

In an attempt to let him off the hook, Jean explained, "I was going through all my Christmas music last night and I came across your album. The curls may be gone, but I recognized those eyes." She smiled at him. "And speaking of Christmas music, I have the list of songs I'd like to discuss, when you're free."

"I'll leave you to it then," said Matthew, helping himself to another cookie before he walked away.

When they were alone, Lucien was hesitant. He seemed to have lost the self-confidence that was so much a part of what he'd appeared to be. Jean felt she needed to reassure him that her new knowledge didn't really affect how she viewed him, except perhaps enhancing it.

"I'm sorry I teased you," she said. "I really did have a crush on you though, or at least on who I imagined you were. And now that I know you, I'm not disappointed in the least."

"Even without the curls?" he asked, managing a rueful smile.

"Even without them, although the waves you have now are lovely, too."

Self-consciously he reached up a hand to smooth down the hair on the back of his head. "Thank you, Jean," he muttered. "Now about those Christmas songs..."

They spent a good part of the afternoon working on her holiday set. With his somber mood at the beginning, she was hesitant to suggest the duet she wanted to perform with him on 'Baby, It's Cold Outside', but as they worked he seemed to become more animated and motivated. Perhaps it was because she didn't treat him any differently now that she knew about his background. Or some of it, at least. She still had no idea why he had left that world behind, or why he had claimed he couldn't return to it if he wanted to.

He noticed her hesitance about choosing a song for an encore, but misinterpreted it. "I understand if you want to beg off from our dinner tonight," he said quietly.

"What? No! Why would I want to do that?" she said quickly.

"I just thought... It's not important."

"No, I'm very much looking forward to dinner with you," she insisted. "I was hesitating over asking if you'd sing with me."

"Sing with you?"

"I thought it would make the perfect encore," she told him.

Lucien nodded, understanding what she meant at once. "Ah, yes, of course. If that's what you want, I think that it could be arranged."

"Lovely," she said with a big smile.

"And speaking of arranging, just one little change to the stage," he said. With that, he stood up from the piano and pushed it, rolling it over to the opposite side, then turned it around so it was again facing the microphone stand in the center.

"What's that in aid of?" she asked him.

"Nothing much. I just want to be able to keep an eye on the bar area."

"Oh? Is stock disappearing?"

"What? No, not at all. I've known Cec most of my life. There are few men in the world I trust as much. No, I just need to see who comes in."

"I heard there was a problem last night," she said softly. "What exactly happened?"

He was silent for a moment, thinking. "It's nearly time to get ready for tonight," he said. "Maybe we can talk about this over dinner?"

"Of course," she told him, not wanting to push him. "I should go get dressed anyway."

Before she could leave, though, Matthew emerged from his office. "I have to go," he announced. "Alice has gone into labor. I need to get her to the hospital. You'll lock up?"

"Yes, of course. Go," said Lucien. "Give her my best."

Matthew rushed out the door, returned to retrieve his car keys, then left quickly once more, leaving Jean and Lucien chuckling in his wake.

"There goes our dinner, if you have to close up this place," Jean observed wistfully.

"Not necessarily. Why don't you leave it to me? I'll work something out," said Lucien.

"Very well," said Jean. "I've been looking forward to it."

"Me, too," said Lucien. "Until later, then."

Jean watched him climb the stairs so he could get dressed. He looked very good from behind, too, she noticed before heading to her dressing room.

* * *

The show went well, even if Lucien seemed a bit less buoyant than Jean was accustomed to seeing him. She chalked it up to a combination of last night's events, whatever they were, and concern over Alice and the baby.

In any case, they were well-received by the audience, with two encores required. Jean was thrilled, and Lucien seemed to be happy for her. His eyes sparkled as he kissed her hand during their final bow.

Backstage, she changed quickly into her normal clothes and removed her stage makeup, all the while wondering what he had planned for their dinner. As she emerged from her dressing room to return to the front of the club, she found him with Charlie Davis, the two of them stacking chairs on tables while Cec the bartender wiped down the bar and washed the glasses. Without saying a word, she pitched in to help. Lucien grinned at her while Cec murmured his thanks.

When all that was left to do was sweep the floor, Lucien thanked the other two men and sent them on their way. He took a broom and began sweeping until Jean took it from him. "I'll do that," she said, "if you'll play something."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"I used to be a housekeeper. I know what I'm doing. You, on the other hand, look much more comfortable behind a piano than behind a broom."

"You're a very smart woman," he told her, moving toward the piano. "Now, what would you like to hear?"

"Could you play something classical?" she asked, now that she knew about his background. "Bear in mind that I'm not very familiar with a lot of classical music."

He paused for a moment; she thought at first he was trying to decide what to play, but a flash of pain crossed his face. She was just about to suggest he could do something else when he flexed his fingers and said, "I think you might recognize this one," and began to play.

She nodded. 'Moonlight Sonata'. He played it beautifully, as far as she could tell. The sheer beauty of it brought tears to her eyes, the broom forgotten as she watched him and listened.

She moved closer, standing at his shoulder so she could see his fingers move over the keyboard. He stopped playing, though, somewhat suddenly. She was fairly certain that wasn't how the piece ended, but his hands were hanging down between his knees.

"That was... well, I'm no expert but that sounded exquisite. Why did you walk away from it when you can play like that?"

He turned his head to look at her face, and for a long moment they stared into each other's eyes. When he finally looked away, he gazed down at his hands and held them outstretched. They were trembling, shaking quite violently. He clasped them together and lowered them down between his knees once more. "You see, I can't really play like that any more," he told her.

"Lucien! I'm sorry I forced you to..."

"There's no need to apologize," he interrupted. "You didn't force me to do anything. I thought... I hoped anyway, that if it was just the two of us I could manage. It seems I was mistaken."

"But what..."

She broke off at the sound of someone pounding quite loudly on the front door of the club.

"Ah," he said, "I do believe that's our dinner arriving."

And he went to the door to take the delivery. She followed him to help, determined to continue the conversation while they ate.


	6. Chapter 6

Jean stared at the several large bags the restaurant delivery driver had dropped off. "Do you think you ordered enough?" she asked. "Or were you planning to invite all the neighbors to join us?"

He smiled somewhat sheepishly. "I had to make sure there was something you liked, and since I don't really know what you like..."

"You figured you'd order some of everything?" She arched an eyebrow.

"Something like that," he admitted. "And this way there'll be leftovers to take home."

"Of course," she said, with only a trace of skepticism in her voice. "Now, where can we eat?"

"All under control. This way, please," he said, leading the way upstairs.

When Jean stepped into Matthew's office, she saw that the small table to the side had been laid with a fresh white tablecloth and set with china and silver place settings. There was even a pair of crystal candlesticks with tall, white candles in them.

Again her eyebrow lifted. "You do a lot of entertaining here, do you?"

He held up his hands in surrender. "First time," he insisted. "All of this is courtesy of Matthew. He brought it all in for a dinner with Alice shortly after we bought the club. He proposed to her afterwards."

"Oh, really?" The eyebrow went even higher.

"Not that I have any such plans tonight," he quickly assured her. "I mean, we only met a few days ago, even if you did dance in your living room with me when you were thirteen."

She laughed, relenting, as he pulled out a chair for her. Together they removed the contents from the bags, looked over the different dishes and filled their plates. He produced a bottle of wine and poured them each a glass.

He lifted his toward her. "To getting to know each other better," he toasted.

She touched her glass to his and nodded in agreement. She certainly wanted to know more about him. She wasn't quite certain, though, how to ease into the questions she wanted to ask.

He helped her out by asking the first question. "I've met your son Christopher. Do you have other children?"

"Another son. Jack. He's a bit of a rebel," she admitted. "I'm hoping he'll eventually find his place in the world."

"I'm sure he will," Lucien said gently.

"And you? Any children?"

He nodded. "A daughter, Li."

"Does she live here in Los Angeles?"

He shook his head. "She has a home in Hong Kong, where she was raised, but she doesn't spend much time there. She's a preeminent concert violinist, traveling all over the world."

"You must be very proud of her. Do you see her often?"

"Unfortunately I rarely see her, but, yes, I'm very proud of her, although I have little to do with her success, I'm afraid."

"That can't be true," said Jean. "If nothing else, she must have gotten her musical genes from you."

"Yes, if nothing else," he said bitterly.

Jean frowned at that. "Her mother lives in Hong Kong?"

"She did, yes. She died several years ago of complications from multiple sclerosis. I tried to get her over here for treatment, but the Chinese government was afraid at the time that if they let her mother come over, Li would refuse to return to China."

"I'm so sorry. That must have been difficult for you and Li," Jean sympathized. "You were divorced then, I take it?"

He nodded. "Mei Lin took Li and moved back to Hong Kong when Li was only three. I wasn't able to see my daughter for over fifteen years, until she started touring. I can't blame her for not seeing me as much of a father."

Jean was intensely curious as to the reasons behind his wife leaving, but she didn't feel she had the right to ask about that so early in their acquaintance. Instead, she asked about his professional life. "You were going to tell me why you stopped touring yourself," she reminded him. "Did it just become too much?"

He smiled somewhat ruefully. "I suppose that was a part of it. At first, the traveling was exciting, but as I got older I wanted something more. I missed my family and friends. Dad was with me - he was always with me - on the road, but I seldom saw my mother or my brother, Tommy. And I wanted to go to school, which Dad insisted could wait. He became more and more controlling, and as I got older, I resented it more and more."

"Wasn't there anyone you could talk to? Your mother?"

"I loved my mother dearly, I still do, but she never could stand up to my father. Tommy seemed to be the only one who could do that. And it cost him dearly."

Jean could see the tears standing in Lucien's eyes. She rested a hand over one of his and said softly, "Tell me about Tommy."

"Ah, Tommy," he said, and the fondness showed through. "Tommy was the ideal older brother. If I'd ever had a son, I would have wanted him to be just like Tommy. Smart, strong, kind, funny. Everything my father _didn't _want in a son. They were always at odds, often over me, I'm afraid. Tommy wanted Dad to ease up, let me have a more normal life." He paused and smiled gently. "My love for the blues came from Tommy, who introduced me to all kinds of music, which annoyed my father no end."

"That makes no sense," said Jean. "Don't many of the great musicians cross over into other genres? Wynton Marsalis, Yo-Yo Ma. Pavarotti had duets with rock singers. Why, I remember Aretha Franklin singing _Nessun Dorma _at the Grammy Awards long ago."

He nodded. "When Pavarotti became ill at the last moment, yes. You make a good point, one that Tommy also made with Dad, to no avail. And the final straw came when Dad caught him teaching me to play the guitar. The guitar, a perfectly respectable instrument, with any number of classical music pieces composed specifically for it. With Dad's reaction, you'd think he was giving me crystal meth or something."

"Your father sounds rather..."

"Like a complete prick?" Lucien suggested.

"I was going to say authoritarian, but that works, too," said Jean. "What did he do to Tommy?"

"Threw him out of the house, stopped paying his college tuition, cut him off completely. He issued an ultimatum to my mother and me that the same thing would happen to us if we tried to stay in contact with Tommy."

"What did you do?"

"I kept in contact with Tommy. I may have only been eighteen at the time, but I was smart enough to know there was no way Dad was going to cut me off when I was his meal ticket. I continued to see Tommy whenever I wasn't on the road. I think Dad knew, because he suddenly started booking even more jobs away from Los Angeles. I was home even less than before. When I did get the chance to see Tommy, he seemed to be going downhill, especially after he had to drop out of school. He had a hard time finding a job that paid enough to live on. And his troubles made me feel more and more guilty, that if he hadn't stood up for me none of it would have happened."

"You were hardly more than a child, Lucien."

He pointed a finger at his head. "In here I know that it wasn't really my fault." Then he pointed at his heart. "But knowing it here is a very different thing. Each time I saw Tommy after that, I resented my father more and more. I tried to give Tommy money, all that I had, but He wouldn't take it. I think now that he was afraid Dad really would cut me off as well, and if he was having such a rough time of it, how much worse off would I be?"

Jean was almost afraid to hear, but she had to ask. "What happened to Tommy, Lucien?"

He took a long, shaky breath. "He enlisted in the Army. I thought he was crazy - I'd grown up on war movies, I knew how bad it could be. Tommy insisted he'd be fine. He'd get some experience and be able to find a good job when he got out. But he never got out."

Now Jean understood the look on his face when she'd mentioned how Christopher died. "Iraq," she said, barely above a whisper.

"Yes, Iraq," he confirmed. "The first Gulf War." He paused, with his eyes glazed over in remembering. "I was playing a concert at the Greek Theatre. With Tommy out of the country, Dad no longer felt compelled to keep me away from Los Angeles. I had just finished the program. I walked offstage and saw my mother sobbing uncontrollably. Naturally I demanded my father tell me what had upset her. He handed me the telegram that our housekeeper had brought over from the house. 'We regret to inform you...'. He'd been hit by a mortar shell, blown to pieces. I was stunned, of course, barely able to take it in, and in the meantime there were thousands of people applauding, demanding an encore."

"Oh, Lucien," she gasped. "He didn't..."

"Oh, yes, he did," said Lucien. "My father literally pushed me back out onto the stage. I could barely see the keyboard through my tears, but somehow I made it through something, Stravinsky, I think, before I stumbled off the stage. And thus ended my classical career."

He noticed the tears that were in her own eyes now. "Jean, I'm so sorry. Here I am pitying myself when you went through something much worse - losing your husband, and when you had two small children, no less. Please forgive me."

"Don't be silly, Lucien. There's always plenty of grief to go around. Mine for Christopher doesn't diminish yours for Tommy. We loved them, and lost them much too soon."

Lucien just nodded, and they sat together in silence for a few moments, sharing their feelings of loss.

"So you just walked away from it all, and your father accepted that?" Jean finally asked.

"My father never accepted anything unless he was in control, but I was over eighteen, and after a few inquiries, I learned that much of the money earned from my concerts and recordings had by law been placed in a trust fund that he couldn't touch, so I did what I wanted for a change - I enrolled in the pre-med program at UCLA."

"You were planning to be a doctor? Really? You would have been very good at it."

"Thank you, Jean, but my father disagreed. He insisted I was wasting my 'talent'." Lucien stopped talking, and as they had both finished eating, he began to clear away the remains.

She put out a hand to stop him. "You didn't become a doctor, though. What happened?"

He gave a wry smile. "I proved to my father that I was just as stupid as he always said I was, when I finally got fed up with his interference in my life. I decided to leave school and go somewhere that he couldn't touch me. Just like Tommy, I joined the Army."

"You didn't," she said, in an almost-accusatory tone.

"Oh, yes. That's why Matthew calls me 'Major'. I was one, for a time."

"You saw action? In Iraq?"

He shook his head. "No, Somalia. But I...". He tailed off, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"It's all right, you don't have to talk about it now," Jean said. She touched his elbow in sympathy.

"That's the thing," he told her. "I can't talk about, even after all this time. It's just...". He shook his head, and when she could see his eyes, there was a deeply haunted look to them.

"Then I won't ask you to, Lucien."

He reached up to clasp the hand that had been touching him. "I like you, Jean. I mean, I _like _you."

"I like you, too. Very much," she assured him. Nothing she had heard had changed whatever it was that was building quickly between them.

"Then you should know the rest. You need to know just how damaged I am. What you're letting yourself in for."

"Lucien?" The bitter tone of his voice worried her.

"I'm sorry I can't tell you myself, but Alice can. Maybe once she's out of the hospital, she and the baby, I'll let her know she has my permission to tell you the rest of it."

"All right, if you think it's best."

"I do." He took a deep breath to clear the air. "Speaking of Alice and the baby, if you don't mind, I'd like to check my phone, see if Matthew has left a message."

"Yes, of course. I didn't realize you'd turned it off. Please do."

He turned it on, brought up his voicemail and turned on the speaker. "Major, hope the dinner went well. You treat that lady right, you understand?"

They smiled at each other until Matthew's voice continued. "Alice had the baby girl, as predicted. They tell me it was a very fast delivery with no complications. Since it's the first one I've ever witnessed, I'll take their word. Alice and the baby are both fine. They're great, in fact. Alice said she's expecting to see you during visiting hours tomorrow. Got to get back to them. Me, a father. Can you believe it? I can't." And it ended abruptly.

Chuckling, Lucien said, "I can believe it. He'll be a great parent. Alice, too. Now let's get this food packaged up so you can take some of it home with you."

Together they cleaned everything up. Jean volunteered to launder the tablecloth and napkins, saying it was the least she could do, since he was giving her enough food to last her the rest of the week.

"Well, then, maybe you would allow me to take you out to an actual restaurant at the end of the week," he suggested. "If I remember correctly, we both have Sunday night off. If you're free and my tale of woe hasn't put you off completely, I would love to take you to dinner."

"I'd like that," said Jean. "And your 'tale of woe', as you call it, hasn't put me off in the least."

"Lovely," he said. "It's a date then."


	7. Chapter 7

After so many years of pinching pennies, Jean knew that she was being overly extravagant for Christmas, but she felt she'd earned the right. She bought more gifts than she ever had before and wrapped them in luxurious paper with big bows. She only wished she had a decent kitchen so that she could invite her family, what there was of it, to share Christmas dinner. She supposed Christopher would ask her to join Ruby and himself and their daughter Amelia. But Ruby's cooking was barely edible, and she resented it if Jean tried to give her any pointers. She wanted to see them, of course, especially little Amelia, but to spend the whole day in Ruby's perfect, terribly unhomelike house was not her idea of a celebration. Maybe she would ask if she could treat Amelia to a matinee at the movie of her choice.

She admitted to herself that she'd love to spend the day cooking Christmas dinner for Lucien, but that was impossible until she found a new apartment with a better kitchen. A New Year's resolution, for certain.

She had done two nights of her holiday-themed sets now, and they'd been a big hit with the audience. The duet with Lucien was certainly the highlight of the show. He threw himself into the spirit of the song, or at least as much as he could from behind the piano. She thought that she could also make it more seductive, perhaps sit on the bench beside him or run her hands over his shoulders as she sang about how cold it was outside. She thought she should check with him first, though. At least that was the reason she told herself for getting to the club so early.

When she walked inside, she was delighted to see Alice Lawson there with her baby daughter, who, Lucien had been embarrassed to tell her, had been named Lucy.

"It's such a beautiful day that I thought we both could do with a bit of fresh air," Alice explained.

"I'm so glad you did," said Jean, looking down at the newborn. "Oh, she's just lovely. She has Matthew's eyes, and your nose and mouth, and somehow it all fits together beautifully."

"Thank you," said Alice. "We think so, too."

"Is she a good baby?"

"She's the first baby I've spent much time around, so I can't really tell, but since she only makes a fuss when she's hungry or wet, I think she's just fine."

"Yes, that's all you can ask of her at this age," said Jean.

"You have two sons, is that right?"

Jean nodded. "Christopher, whom you met, and Jack. Why do you ask?"

"I've read all the books and attended a class, but I'm sure there will be things that come up that weren't covered. Would you mind terribly if I called on you for advice?"

"Not at all. Anything that I can do," Jean assured her, feeling somewhat flattered that this accomplished and professional woman would seek her help.

"Thank you. I don't have many women friends and none of them have children, except you."

Smiling at being considered a friend, Jean said, "Can I hold her? I haven't held a newborn since my granddaughter Amelia was born, and that was four years ago."

"Be my guest," said Alice.

Lucy seemed to be watching Jean as she reached down to lift her out of the carrier/car seat in which she was lying. Once holding her, Jean instinctively rocked the tiny girl in her arms as Alice seemed to be studying her every move, trying to learn.

"Hello, Lucy," she cooed. "Aren't you the sweetest little girl?"

"I've read that it's good to talk to them, even though they don't understand anything you say," said Alice. "It helps them develop language skills."

"Does it?" said Jean. "I've always done it because I want them to feel loved." She smiled at Alice. "If it helps them develop too, all the better."

"Quite."

"You named her for Lucien?"

"We did," Alice confirmed. "He's very important to both of us. He brought us together, you know."

"No, I didn't know that. He introduced the two of you?"

"In a manner of speaking." She indicated Lucy, who seemed to have fallen asleep as Jean gently rocked her. "It looks like she's going to be out for a while. If you have the time now, Lucien said you wanted to hear the story of what happened to him in the military."

"All right, yes," said Jean. "Would you like to do it in my dressing room? We won't be disturbed there, and neither will this little one. And I can make us a pot of tea."

"Perfect," said Alice. She took Lucy and placed her back in the carrier where, after a few snuffles, she settled easily.

When the two women were seated with their teacups in front of them, Jean said, "Lucien told me about the events up until he joined the Army. I was wondering, have you and Matthew met his father?"

"I have, briefly, and Matthew has a few times. Our impressions are very similar to the way Lucien described him, if that's what you were wondering."

"Yes, it is," Jean admitted. "Lucien is such a lovely, kind, generous man that I just wonder how..."

"How he came to be the way he is with that man as a father?"

"Yes, something like that."

"Thankfully, Lucien seems to have inherited only his father's mental toughness, and he's needed every bit of it."

"Tell me," Jean said quietly. "He joined the Army."

"He did, for all the wrong reasons. Now, though, he might tell you there are no right reasons to go to war. But back then, being Lucien, he threw himself into the world of the military. Right away they saw how intelligent he is and sent him to officers' training. From there he went to Germany for further training and learned to be a helicopter pilot."

"Really," said Jean. But then she remembered where he said he'd been deployed - Somalia - and she gasped. "Oh, no!"

"Yes, he was sent to Africa, to Somalia , a war zone. As it happens, Matthew was also deployed to Somalia, but he was a corporal, a ground soldier."

"That's where they met?"

"In a manner of speaking," said Alice.

That was a bit too cryptic for Jean, and her arched eyebrow let Alice know that.

Alice explained. "Matthew was a ranger, part of the task force sent in to Mogadishu to capture the leaders of a warlord's clan. The helicopter he was traveling in was shot down, and Matthew himself was shot in the knee."

That explained the limp Jean had noticed. "Was that Lucien's helicopter?"

"No, Lucien was in one of the others that were trying to rescue those who were stranded. He landed amidst all the gunfire, and began helping soldiers to get aboard. It was already full when he saw Matthew couldn't make it to the helicopter unaided, so he got out and dragged Matthew into his own seat. Then he ordered the co-pilot to get them out."

Jean gasped. "And Lucien?"

"Matthew saw him taken prisoner by the warlord's men."

"Oh! That's what he can't talk about?"

Alice nodded. "Yes, what happened to him in captivity. He was tortured. For several weeks. They found out who he was, and somehow got hold of one of his record albums. They played it at full volume and taunted him while they beat him and waterboarded him and shocked him with electrodes."

Tears ran down Jean's cheeks as her hands covered her mouth in shock. Her husband Christopher had died instantly in combat at least. He hadn't suffered. But to think of kind, gentle Lucien being tortured... Then suddenly she realized the result. "That's why he can't play classical music on the piano now."

"Yes," said Alice. "He suffers from PTSD. His own music can set off flashbacks."

"And you've been treating him for it all this time?"

Alice nodded. "And that's how I met Matthew. He came to visit Lucien often, as soon as he found out he'd been released by his captors. Our mutual concern for Lucien brought us together, and then we discovered we had other things in common as well."

"And now?" asked Jean. "Lucien is cured, aside from the music problem?"

Alice smiled grimly. "He manages very well, considering what he's been through, but he still has issues. Sudden loud noises still cause him problems."

"Like the shouting from that heckler last week?"

"Yes, like that," said Alice. "I've suggested to him that there are treatments, but he doesn't want to be on medication for the rest of his life. He'll consent to an occasional session with me, but nothing more."

"But he functions so well, I would never have known," said Jean.

"He does."

"His PTSD, has he ever hurt anyone?" asked Jean, thinking back to what he'd said about his wife leaving him and taking their daughter.

"No one but himself. You're perfectly safe with him, if that's what you're concerned about."

"I was wondering about his wife. He said she left him."

Alice frowned. "Mei Lin. He met and married her when he was stationed in Germany. She knew who he was, and it seemed she was sure that he'd return to that life at some point. She had their daughter just before he was sent to Somalia, and after he returned from captivity she knew he was not the same man she'd married. He could never go back to being 'Lucien the prodigy'. When she finally realized that, she fled back to China with their little girl, knowing he couldn't follow her there at that time."

"How cruel, to both Lucien and their daughter."

"He tends to give her the benefit of the doubt. He says she feared for their safety, despite the fact he never laid a finger on either of them, and never would."

"It sounds like she was nothing more than a gold digger," said Jean. "Lucien certainly deserves better."

"He doesn't always think so," said Alice. "You're very fond of him, aren't you?"

Nodding, Jean said, "Very fond."

"All I ask is that you be kind to him. He needs kindness."

"I can certainly do that," Jean promised.

"Yes, I think you can," said Alice.

"Thank you for telling me this. I understand much more about him now."

"I only told you because Lucien asked me to. He said he wants you to know what you're getting into if you're considering a relationship with him."

Jean sighed. "He told me I should know how broken he is. I don't think that's true at all. I think it shows how strong he is."

"Maybe he'll believe it, coming from you," said Alice. "He's up in Matthew's office if you want to see him."

"I do," said Jean. "Thank you again."

She hurried out to the front and up the stairs. As she climbed, she could hear a guitar playing a classical piece, the saddest piece of music she thought she'd ever heard. She stood in the office doorway for a few minutes, just watching Lucien play his guitar.

He must have sensed her there: after a while he looked up at her and smiled as he finished the piece. "Do you know it?" he asked.

"No, I don't think I've ever heard it before. It's beautiful. Very sad, but beautiful."

"It's the second movement of the 'Concierto de Aranjuez' by Joaquin Rodrigo," Lucien explained. "He wrote it after his wife had a miscarriage and while her own life was still in danger. Hence the sadness. Strangely enough, it's one of the quintessential compositions for classical guitar and yet Rodrigo never played the instrument himself."

He stood up and set his guitar down, and she took the opportunity to walk over and put her arms around him. "You make me want to learn much more about classical music," she told him. "This, classical music on the guitar, you don't have... issues with it?"

"No, only on the piano," he said. His arms closed around her, but loosely so that she could easily extricate herself if she wished to. It only made her hug him tighter. Through the cloth of his shirt, she could feel the strong muscles of his back, and something else. At first she thought it must be an undershirt, but then she realized she was feeling scar tissue, thick ropes of it along much of his back. The beatings he had suffered. She stiffened at the realization.

Lucien felt her tense up and immediately recognized the cause. "You spoke to Alice," he said in a flat voice.

"I did," she said softly. "I completely understand why you couldn't tell me about it yourself."

"If you want to back away now, well, it doesn't have to affect our professional relationship if you don't want it to."

She leaned back, trying to look him in the eyes, but he avoided her gaze. "Why do you think I'd want to back away?"

"My dear Jean, I'm not exactly what you thought you were getting."

"You are exactly what I thought I was getting," Jean corrected him, continuing to stare until he met her eyes, then she smiled. "Now, where are you taking me for dinner tomorrow night?"


	8. Chapter 8

Jean spent a great deal of time getting ready for their dinner together. He had told her they were going to Yamashiro, so she had googled the place to find out how she should dress. It was a higher end restaurant with a history of glamour, having been the frequent site of Hollywood premiere parties during the Golden Age of cinema. It looked like a lovely place, and she was looking forward to both the setting and the company.

Lucien arrived to pick her up precisely on time, something nearly unheard of with Los Angeles traffic being what it was. He looked very handsome in his dark suit with a silky blue tie that very nearly matched the color of his eyes.

"You look absolutely lovely," he told her with a smile as he opened the car door for her.

"You look very good, too," she returned. She was relieved to note that despite the beautiful weather he had opted to keep the car's roof up.

"I didn't think you'd want to risk too much wind blowing your hair around," he told her.

"That was very thoughtful. Thank you."

They chatted about the club, Alice and little Lucy, her set, and new songs they'd heard recently as Lucien drove. He exited the freeway and maneuvered through the main streets of Hollywood before turning onto a side street that climbed sharply up the side of a hill behind the Hollywood Bowl. She watched somewhat apprehensively as they navigated increasingly narrow streets in a residential neighborhood.

"Are you sure this is the right way?" she asked, as they passed houses, with no sign of anything even remotely commercial in sight.

"Trust me, this is the right way," he assured her. The street was barely a single-lane wide, which meant he couldn't take his eyes off it as he spoke to her.

"I do trust you," she said, although there was still a tiny doubt as she hoped he wasn't one of those men who would never admit to being lost.

They continued to climb upward until suddenly the restaurant came into view, looking very much like a Japanese temple on top of a hillside.

He pulled the car up to the parking attendant, then turned to her as she took in the atmosphere of the place. "Just wait until you see the view," he told her. "It's too bad the sun set so early. We should really come back here when sunset comes later, but even now the lights of the city are quite impressive."

He escorted her inside where they were early for their reservations, so they went outside to see the courtyard garden. Jean was delighted at the serenity of the place with its fish-filled ponds and sculpted trees.

"I miss having a yard to grow plants," she sighed. "After growing up on a farm, it's difficult not being able to sink my hands into the dirt and coax things to life."

"I'll take your word for it, never having had the knack myself. Where I live it's mostly sand anyway," Lucien told her.

"Do you have a house?" she asked.

"Yes, I bought it when I left the Army. I needed the solitude, and with no family to consider I indulged myself with exactly what I wanted. I've lived there ever since." He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the fence surrounding a koi pond.

Jean, who had lived in a series of increasingly smaller rented spaces since moving away from the family farm in her teens could only imagine what it must be like to own a home. "With a house you could always use window boxes to grow things," she pointed out. "Not just flowers, but fresh herbs, and things like tomatoes and peppers."

"I could, if plants didn't seem to have a death wish as soon as they saw me coming."

Jean laughed. "I'm sure it isn't as bad as that."

"I'm afraid it is. My neighbor Mattie has given up on asking me to care for her plants when she's away. She learned at the expense of her prized African violet, I'm ashamed to say."

"Maybe you just need a good teacher to show you," said Jean with a smile.

"Are you volunteering for..." Lucien broke off and froze as a pair of arms snaked around him from behind. He tensed up until he looked down and saw they were muscular and clothed in white, at which point he turned around with a huge smile.

"Henry, you devil. Good to see you. Jean, this is a very old friend, Henry Dent, the chef here. Henry, Mrs. Jean Beazley, a good friend and a marvelous singer."

"Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Beazley," said Henry, with the faint trace of an Australian accent.

"And you, Chef," said Jean. "You've known Lucien for a long time."

"Since we were both in our teens and working at the Hollywood Bowl. He was a headliner on the bill, of course, and I was a lowly kitchen assistant at one of the restaurants there."

Lucien grinned. "And all these years later he's the head chef at a legendary fine dining establishment, and I'm..." He shrugged.

"You're an incredible pianist and the owner of a well-respected establishment," Jean said firmly.

Henry nodded at Jean. "Quite right. You should listen to the smart lady, Lucien. Stop selling yourself short. Now, why didn't you tell me you were coming tonight? I saw your name on the reservations list and could hardly believe it."

"I knew you'd be busy. I thought I'd send word back before we left."

"Nonsense. It's a Sunday night, and everything's under control in the kitchen. Now, if you'll both allow me, I'd like to make a special dinner for the two of you."

Lucien glanced at Jean for her permission, and she said, "That sounds exciting. I've never had anything like that done for me."

"Thank you, Henry. Just one thing - no bugs." Lucien turned to explain to Jean. "Henry once served me chocolate covered crickets for dessert. I still don't know if it was supposed to be a joke."

"They're filled with protein," Henry insisted, laughing. "But no bugs this time. Any other limitations I should know about?"

Jean hesitated before saying, "I don't really eat beef or pork now. Is that a problem?"

"Not at all, as long as you don't have any seafood allergies," said Henry.

"I love seafood of all kinds," Jean assured him.

"Then you're in for a treat," said Lucien. "Seafood is Henry's specialty."

Henry glanced inside at one of the waiters, who nodded. "There's a table waiting for you on the terrace. I think you'll like the view."

"Thank you, Henry," said Lucien, clapping him on the shoulder.

They followed the waiter through the restaurant and out a door on the opposite side to a table on the corner of the terrace, somewhat apart from the others. Jean sat down and thanked the young man, then smiled at Lucien before looking around. The view of the city and the valley was everything they'd said it was - stunningly spectacular.

"It's amazing," she murmured, trying to take it all in.

"Isn't it? I think the only comparable view from a public place is at the Planetarium."

The only light in their little corner came from a single candle and the glow of the city spread out before them. Jean found it very romantic. She shivered slightly at the thought.

Lucien noticed. "Are you cold? You can have my jacket or we can move inside," he offered.

"No, I'm fine. Just thrilled to be here. With you," she added.

"I'm glad. I feel just the same."

He reached out for her hand, which she gave willingly. He was about to say something more when the waiter arrived with their drinks, Imperial cocktails, and a platter of assorted _amuse bouche _to start them off. There were several kinds of small spring rolls, tiny dumplings, grilled shrimp, and various other pieces that the two of them had fun identifying. All were delicious. Henry had outdone himself.

As they moved onto the salads and entree, each course exceeded the last. Jean had never had so many varieties of fish and seafood, each prepared in unique ways, and she loved them all. If Lucien was looking to impress her (and she was quite certain he was) then he'd succeeded completely.

"The way to a girl's heart," she began, as she laid down her fork and sat back.

"Really?" said Lucien. "Then I wonder if you've made plans for Christmas Eve, or Christmas Day? Either would work."

"Oh? What are you planning? I'm not sure you can top this."

"I'm sure I can't, but nonetheless, I'd like to make dinner for you, and a holiday where we aren't working seems the ideal time for it."

"No," said Jean, but at his crestfallen look, she quickly amended, "No, I don't have plans, but instead of you cooking for me, why don't we prepare a meal together? I think it would be fun. It would have to be at your place, though. My kitchen won't even fit two people if they're just standing, much less cooking."

"I was planning to cook for you at my place, but cooking _with you _sounds even better," said Lucien, his face lighting up.

"I think so, too," she told him, with a matching smile. "How about this: we can meet early in the day on Christmas Eve to shop for groceries, to get what we need?"

"Perfect," he told her. "Now, I wonder what Henry has made us for dessert?"

They finished with a delicious flan and a pot of tea. Jean had limited herself to just a few sips of wine after the initial cocktail, and she noted that Lucien had also been sparing with his alcohol intake. With the tea to end the meal, she was happy to see he was none the worse for drink. She had been prepared to volunteer to drive home, but now felt confident that he was fine to take the wheel himself.

They thanked Henry profusely for the wonderful meal before heading out the door. Lucien's mustang was already waiting for them out front.

"I'm happy that you're all right to drive," she told him. "I'm not sure I could manage these narrow streets in the dark."

"It would hardly do to make you drive on our first 'real' date, would it?"

"I've had it happen, more than once," Jean said.

"Those men were utter fools then," Lucien told her. "Any woman deserves better, but how they could disrespect you like that, well, as I said, utter fools."

"Thank you for saying that, and for such a lovely evening. I've never been treated like that at a restaurant."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. You should always be treated like that, as someone special."

Jean smiled into the darkness as Lucien negotiated the tiny streets and finally merged onto the freeway.

He glanced over at her. "I'm sorry. Did I come on too strong?"

"What? No, I thought you were very sweet."

"You were so quiet I thought I'd put you off."

"Not at all. I was trying to fix every detail of this evening in my mind. I've never had one like it."

"Good. I'd like to show you more memorable evenings, if you'll let me and our club schedules will allow it."

"I'd like that, too, Lucien."

The rest of the ride to her building was comfortable and pleasant, with Lucien recounting how he first ran into Henry at the Bowl, recognizing a fellow Aussie of a similar age, and subsequently he would sneak away from the stage before his performances so they could get together. If Henry was too busy, Lucien would pitch in to help out, which was when he'd first become interested in learning to cook for himself.

When they arrived at Jean's home, Lucien insisted on accompanying her to the door to make sure she got in safely. He had to park half a block away, and as they walked up the sidewalk together, she slipped her hand into his. He brought it to his lips for a quick kiss when they reached the door. Their eyes locked, and Jean felt as though a hush had fallen around them. Lucien leaned closer and breathed, "May I?"

She could only nod as she leaned up to meet his lips with her own. It was gentle and sweet, the perfect ending to an evening she could once only have dreamed of. She felt like someone in a movie, not Jean Randall Beazley, widow and farmer's daughter. She briefly wished she could invite him in for coffee, but then thought her shabby apartment, although meticulously clean, was hardly the way she wanted the night to end.

"Thank you, for everything," she told him. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I'm sure you will. Sweet dreams, Mrs. Beazley."

"Thank you. Drive safely."

She let herself in and then watched through the window as he returned to the car and pulled away. "Sweet dreams indeed," she murmured as she walked into her bedroom.


	9. Chapter 9

It was the night before Christmas Eve, the last performance before the holiday break. As they looked out on the packed crowd before they went on, Jean finally got up the nerve to speak with Lucien about her suggestion for their duet.

"I was thinking," she began.

"About?"

"The last song of the set. I was thinking we might spice it up a bit," she said, fighting off a blush.

He grinned wickedly. "Oh? What did you have in mind, Mrs. Beazley?"

"I thought I might sit next to you on the bench for part of it, maybe run my hands over your shoulders or your arms."

"I like how you think," he said. "May I also make a suggestion then?"

"Of course," she told him.

"We should flip the parts of the song. I'll be trying to leave, and you'll try to convince me to stay."

"Ooh, I like that," said Jean with a wide smile. "And it works even better that way if I'm caressing you." He really was a brilliant musical partner, she thought.

On stage she couldn't help but think about what was coming as she went through the rest of her songs. It seemed to be the perfect night to try it - the audience was enthusiastic and everyone seemed to be in a great mood.

She finished the penultimate song, 'In the Bleak Midwinter', and after nodding her thanks for the applause, she glanced over at Lucien, who winked at her. The gesture was enough to calm her nerves as he played the intro and began to sing.

"I really can't stay."

"But, baby, it's cold outside," she sang back, swaying her hips as she moved closer.

"I've got to go 'way."

"Baby, it's cold outside." She sat down on the piano bench beside him, and he opened his eyes wider, as though in surprise.

"This evening has been..."

"Been hoping that you'd drop in." She rested a hand on his bicep, squeezed it and mugged to the crowd at how impressed she was.

"Sooo very nice," he sang, eyeing her hand.

"I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice." She moved behind him and rubbed her hands briskly up and down both biceps, nodding approvingly to the audience.

They continued in that vein, getting more and more suggestive, as the crowd cheered them on. Finally they sang in unison the last "But baby, it's cold outside," and then kissed very dramatically, to the hoots and whistles of approval from the audience.

Jean pulled Lucien up to take a bow with her, and they held hands as they did so. Their hands remained clasped as they walked off the stage to sustained applause. He said something to her, but the audience noise drowned it out completely. When the noise didn't subside in the least, she led the way back out for their prepared encore - "All I Want for Christmas is You". Feeling emboldened, she played that up as well, beginning by pointing at various members of the crowd, but then focusing more and more on Lucien.

Once again when the song finished, they bowed and left the stage, but the audience wasn't yet willing to let the evening end. Finally after two more encores, Jean used the microphone to thank them. When the applause still didn't diminish, Lucien leaned over his mic. "You've all been great. Thank you for coming. Stay safe getting home and have a wonderful holiday season. Good night now from Jean and me. Hope to see you back here soon."

They bowed again and walked off. When the noise had died down enough for them to hear each other, Jean simply said, "Wow."

"Bravo," said Lucien. "Well done."

"You, too," Jean responded, and reached up to give him a peck on the cheek.

"Ahem." Matthew had appeared and he cleared his throat as Jean turned red. "It seems we have a music critic in the house from the L.A. Times. He'd like a few words with you, if you don't mind. Both of you."

Lucien shook his head. "It was Jean's set."

"Nonsense," she told him. "You're a big part of it. Come with me? Please?" In truth, she was also a little nervous about facing a critic. She clasped his hand and tugged gently.

"Are you sure? It's your time in the spotlight, Jean."

"And I wouldn't be anywhere near as successful without your support and guidance," she said. "Please come, Lucien."

"That's not true, but if you really want me to..."

"Just go, both of you," Matthew grumbled. "We can use the publicity."

That seemed to settle it for Lucien. He allowed Jean to lead him out front to the man Matthew indicated, who looked surprisingly young to be a critic for such a large newspaper. Lucien seemed to relax when he saw the man, and only then did it occur to Jean that he might have a relationship, good or bad, with critics who knew him from his prior career. This one though seemed much too young for that.

And it seemed he had no idea. Lucien adeptly maneuvered his way around questions about his past and directed the man to focus on Jean at every opportunity. She suspected he had little in the way of personal career ambitions for himself. He had found a niche where he felt comfortable and accepted. But he wanted Jean to have whatever success she sought and did what he could to support her.

She was a little nervous at first, but the young man was a good interviewer. His questions allowed her to express why she chose the songs she sang and how she felt about the music. She only hoped his writing would be equally adept. At least she felt certain it wouldn't be a "gotcha" piece, since he worked for the Times.

He finished up and thanked them, handing Jean his business card. She and Lucien wished him a good holiday, then stood watching as he walked out the door. When he was gone, Jean asked, "What do you think?"

"I think that man is half in love with you, and rightfully so," Lucien told her, his eyes twinkling.

"This won't be a problem for you, will it?" She meant it in earnest, but then felt compelled to add, "I'm sure you don't need groupies who've been pining for you since they were preteens coming out of the woodwork now."

"You mean the ones who used to dance around their living room floor with my album cover?" he teased back.

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?" she frowned.

He held up his hands in surrender. "Last time I'll mention it. Scout's honor."

"Really? You never seemed like the scouting type to me."

Chuckling, he said, "I'm afraid you've caught me out. Now, what do you say we get changed, have a Christmas drink with Matthew, the band, and the staff, and make plans for our dinner together?"

* * *

Most of the band members were much younger than Jean and Lucien, but they were professionals (Lucien and Matthew wouldn't accept anything less) and they respected talent. That didn't mean they couldn't give Lucien a hard time when they weren't working. They called him 'Pops' or 'Old Man' and teased him from time to time, but he gave as good as he got.

Jean laughed at the back and forth among them all, enjoying this side of Lucien. It was much like the way he often bantered with the audience from the stage. She also enjoyed the chance to get to know Cec, the bartender, and Charlie, the bouncer, a little better.

When it looked like many of the men were planning to make it a night of drinking, she, Lucien and Matthew excused themselves from the party. The three of them went up to the office, where Matthew stayed only long enough to grab his briefcase and wish them a Merry Christmas. He was going home to his wife and baby.

After he had gone, they sat on the couch. Jean said with a sigh, "It's nice to be off my feet, even for a little while."

"Here, allow me," said Lucien, indicating she should put her feet on his lap, where he removed her shoes and began to massage the aches away."

"Ah, lovely," she sighed. "If your music career doesn't pan out, you have a future as a masseur."

"I'll bear that in mind," he replied drily. "Now, about tomorrow. I was thinking I could pick you up around noon and we'll head to the supermarket to shop for what we need."

Jean readily agreed, thinking it would be both fun and intriguing to shop with him. She'd always found that you learned a lot about a person by food shopping with them. "What about a menu?" she asked. "Do you have traditional dishes we need to make?"

"Not really. You said you love seafood. I thought perhaps a lobster entree."

"No, sorry," she said, shaking her head. "I can't stand the idea of putting them into a pot of boiling water alive."

"Right. Well, then, we could do a bouillabaisse, or a paella?"

"I adore paella, even if it is a lot of work," she sighed. "I haven't had it in years."

"Paella it is then. We'll skip the pork in it, though. Just chicken and seafood as protein. We could even cook it outside on an open fire, if the weather holds."

"I like that idea. Now, as for sides, a big salad, I think. And maybe some nice, crusty bread."

"And a Spanish red wine," of course," he agreed. "Shall we do appetizers? Dessert?"

"Just the salad as a starter, I'd say, but I'll admit I have a sweet tooth, so yes, definitely dessert. I suppose we could just buy something rather than baking from scratch."

"A sweet tooth, eh? I'll keep that in mind," he said with a grin. "Now, one other thing. Traditionally I host a big dinner on Christmas Day. Everyone I know that otherwise might be alone is invited, usually a dozen people or so show up. I order most of the food from a local caterer."

"What a wonderful idea," said Jean.

"Whether or not you would otherwise be alone, you're very welcome to come," he said. "Unless you have other plans, of course."

"I usually spend the day with my son Christopher's family," she began, "but I haven't heard from him about this year. I don't know if that means he assumes I'm coming or they're doing something else this time. I was planning to call him, feel him out, but if he can't be bothered to invite me, I think I'll take you up on your offer."

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to cause hard feelings between you and Chris."

"I'm sure," she said firmly. "I'll stop in there over the weekend to give them their gifts." She noticed Lucien still looked doubtful. As a man estranged from his own family, no doubt he didn't wish the same on her. "It will be fine," she insisted. "He could use a reminder not to take me for granted."

"I can't imagine anyone taking you for granted," he told her, giving the foot he was massaging an extra squeeze for emphasis.

"For the longest time my boys were my whole life," she told him, a bit sadly. "When they grew up and moved away, started lives on their own, it took me far too long to realize it was time for me to do the same, start a life of my own. But now I am."

"Indeed you are," said Lucien. "And on your way to stardom."

"I don't know about that," said Jean. "Oh, speaking of stardom, I owe you an apology."

"Do you?" he asked, eyes widening in curiosity.

"Yes, for insisting you do that interview. I wasn't thinking that it might be awkward for you if too many questions came up about your past. I shouldn't have put you on the spot like that. I'm sorry."

"Your apology is unnecessary but accepted. Jean, my dear, I gave my first interview at the age of sixteen. It's been a while, but I still remember how to give the press only the information I want them to have. It's a bit like riding a bike: you don't unlearn it."

"Maybe you'll have to give me lessons then, since you think I'm going to be a star," she teased.

"I don't just 'think' it, I know it," he told her.

"Well, then, in that case I'd better get my beauty sleep," she said. "It's been quite a night."

He eased her feet off his lap, then stood and helped her up as well. She held onto his hand for balance as she slipped her shoes back on. "Thank you, Lucien."

He smiled in response, then glanced at the time. "It's very late. I'd feel much better if I knew you got home safely. Would you mind if I followed your car to see you safely inside?"

"That's very thoughtful. I think I'd feel better as well. My neighborhood can be a little dodgy at times," she admitted.

"Is that right?" He looked concerned for her.

"Nothing has really happened to me except men shouting some rather suggestive remarks a time or two. Still, I can't wait to move out when my lease is up next month."

Now he looked even more worried. "I see," he said slowly.

She couldn't help but wonder what it was exactly that he saw, but in any case she was grateful for the escort home.

When she pulled into her parking spot, she saw that he had parked his car on the street and was approaching to walk her to the door. Thankfully the street was quite deserted though. It wasn't strictly necessary, but she wasn't about to argue, especially when he leaned down, planning to kiss her cheek. Instead, she moved her head so that he met her lips.

She caught him by surprise, but it took him only a moment to adjust, deepening the kiss and caressing her top lip with his tongue. She hummed happily in response and touched his tongue with her own, inviting him to further exploration. His hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb softly stroking it, as his tongue went deeper, dueling with hers.

When she was just beginning to feel the need for air, he pulled back, but touched his forehead to hers. "Good night," he whispered softly.

"Good night to you, Lucien. Safe home."

He waited there until she had let herself inside and had locked the door behind her. She was already counting the hours until she would see him on the morrow.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: I apologize that it's taken so long to update. We have construction work being done on the apartment building, and the noise level for the last two weeks is prohibitive of getting any real writing done. I've only managed a few Snippets while they (and I) were on our lunch hours. I hope to have an update ready for Freedom in a few days._

* * *

Jean opened her eyes and stretched languidly. Little by little she was managing to sleep later into the morning, what with her new late-night schedule. No longer did she feel compelled to be up, dressed and busy before 7 A.M. With a contented sigh, she reached for her phone to check the time. Almost ten o'clock. Still plenty of time before Lucien would be there at noon to pick her up.

She decided to start a grocery list based on the menu they'd discussed. Chicken thighs, rice, shrimp, perhaps some mussels and scallops, tomatoes, chicken stock, saffron... She was wincing over how expensive the saffron would be when her phone rang. It showed Christopher's number. Calling to discuss plans for tomorrow, no doubt.

"Good morning," she said.

"Mum, I... Good morning," he said, belatedly remembering his manners. "Have you seen the newspaper? The _Times_?"

"Not yet. Why?"

"There's an incredible review about you! You and Lucien Blake. The critic absolutely raves about your act."

Jean had hardly ever heard her older son so excited. "He interviewed Lucien and me after the show last night. So he liked the act?"

"Listen to this: 'Ms. Beazley's clear, fresh voice brings a new perspective on the blues, and her intelligent interpretations of classic songs make her distinct in a world of too many tired cover singers.' He really liked it. Not a single negative thing to say about you."

"And what did he say about Lucien?"

"Oh, he liked him, too. Urges everyone to check out the club."

"Matthew will be thrilled at that."

"You're on your way, Mum. After all this time you're going to be the star Dad always said you should have been."

"You remember that?" asked Jean. Christopher Jr. had been very young when his father was deployed overseas, never to return.

"He used to say it every night," Christopher recalled. "Congratulations on your first review, and a big one at that."

"Thank you," she said. "I'm not sure it will lead anywhere, but still it's nice that someone thinks I have talent."

"While I have you," said Christopher, "I wanted to apologize for not inviting you over for dinner tomorrow. We've been waiting to hear from Agatha, Ruby's mother. She isn't doing very well, I'm afraid. We're flying out tomorrow morning to be with her. I know it's last minute, but we were wondering if Amelia could stay with you for a couple of days."

"You know I'm off today and tomorrow, but I have to work the following night," said Jean. "I suppose I could set up her porta-crib in my dressing room and see if someone could stay with her while I'm on stage."

"You know we wouldn't ask if it wasn't an emergency," said Christopher.

"Yes, I know, and I always love spending time with my granddaughter," said Jean. "Just so you know, I've made other plans for tomorrow, but I think I could bring Amelia with me. If not, I suppose we'll just spend the day at home, the two of us."

"Thanks, Mum. I really appreciate it, and Ruby does, too. We can drop her off at your place on the way to the airport, if that's all right."

"I'll let you know if anything changes," said Jean. "Give my love to Amelia and Ruby. I'll say a prayer for Agatha."

She ended the call. So much for her lazy morning. She decided she might as well start the day. She wondered if she could still accept Lucien's invitation to dinner tomorrow with a baby in tow. Did he even like children? He had a daughter, but had been denied the opportunity to be involved in much of her upbringing. Well, there was nothing for it but to ask him.

She was looking through her recipes when the door buzzer sounded. He was early - it must be light traffic today, she thought. He had never been inside her apartment before, but this was as good a time as any for him to see it. She ran down the stairs and let him in, leading the way back to her tiny, cramped home.

"You can see why we couldn't possible make dinner together here," she said, waving a hand.

"It is rather... cozy," he observed. "But you've managed to make it neat and comfortable. Now, before we do anything else I have something to show you." He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a newspaper folded to show the review Christopher had mentioned. "I thought you might want to keep this for your scrapbook. The first of many, I'm sure."

She gave him a doubting look, but took the newspaper, saying, "I heard it was in this morning's paper and it was quite complimentary."

"It's an actual rave," said Lucien. "You should be very proud."

She invited Lucien to sit down and did the same herself to read the review in full. When she looked up at him, they exchanged broad smiles. "This is very flattering," she said, feeling herself blush at the praise.

"It isn't flattery if it's true. I keep telling you how talented you are. Are you starting to believe in yourself?"

"Maybe just a little," Jean conceded. "After all, you might just have a bit of bias."

"Because I happen to be very fond of you? Did you ever think that part of the reason I'm fond of you is because I happen to think talent is very sexy?" He waggled his eyebrows comically.

Laughing, she replied, "I did consider that, since, as you'll recall, I've considered your talent to be sexy since before I was actually old enough to know what 'sexy' meant."

"Ah, yes, the incident that I'm not allowed to mention."

"Yes, that incident..". She tapped her finger on the newspaper. "Do you mind if I keep this?"

"That's why I brought it."

"Very kind of you. Thank you. I'd like to put it away to show my granddaughter some day. And on the subject of Amelia, I'm afraid there's a complication in my plans to join you tomorrow."

"Oh?"

"Yes, Christopher's mother-in-law is quite ill and she's taken a turn for the worse. Christopher and Ruby are flying to Florida tomorrow afternoon to be with her, and they've asked me to take Amelia while they're away."

"Amelia is how old?"

"She just turned three."

"Then bring her along. What's one more very small mouth to feed? Seriously, Jean, I'd be happy to have her. Matthew and Alice will be by later tomorrow with the baby anyway."

"If you're sure?"

"I'm quite sure. I haven't had a little one in the house at Christmas for, oh, nearly twenty years," he said, with a small hitch in his voice.

Jean knew he was thinking about his daughter.

"Well, then, it's settled, thank you."

"You're perfectly welcome. Now, shall we head to the supermarket?"

* * *

"I know you probably have a favorite store near here, but I thought that if we're buying seafood we should probably shop closer to the house," he explained, "especially with the weather being so warm today."

"That makes sense," Jean agreed. "We definitely don't want to risk food poisoning from eating shrimp that has turned."

"Right." He navigated local streets until they reached Sunset Boulevard. "We can take this straight down to the Pacific Coast Highway, then take that up to Malibu."

He'd told her he lived near the beach, but she was impressed that it was Malibu.

"Not one of the neighborhoods with all the celebrities," he assured her when her eyes had widened. "My immediate neighbors are a nurse and a film set designer, hardly household names." He turned his head to glance at her. "What about you? You've said you have plans to move. Do you know where?"

"That's the problem, finding a decent place that I can afford," she said with a sigh. "I've been looking, but so far most of what I've seen are high-rise fortresses or soulless condos."

"Do you have an area in mind?"

"Not exactly. I'd love to live near water, Santa Monica maybe, or even Silver Lake. But both of them seem to be out of my price range, even though I'm being paid very generously," she hastened to add.

He seemed to find that amusing, that she thought he might be offended.

"I don't suppose you know somewhere affordable in Malibu?" she said, mostly in jest.

"Because Malibu is known for its affordability?" he teased back. Then he paused, thinking. "You know, I just might have an idea about that. I'll get back to you."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're joking, right?"

"No, I happen to know someone... I'll need to ask some questions, but it might just work."

She smiled brightly, but tried not to get her hopes up. There had been too many disappointments in her life, and she didn't want to set herself up for another one, but what a Christmas gift that would be - a place in Malibu.

She could smell the salt in the air even before they reached the end of Sunset Boulevard and saw the blue expanse of the Pacific Ocean spread out in front of them. "It still takes my breath away," she said, "even after living so close to it for almost twenty years."

"Me, too," he told her, "and it's been considerably longer for me."

"I like that there are still things that can fill me with wonder and a sense of awe."

"Especially the things not made by man," he agreed.

He turned right and they headed north on the aptly named Pacific Coast Highway, with the ocean filling the entire vista to their left. Even though it was December and winter, the warm temperatures meant there were people on the beaches. Seeing all the families, she couldn't help wishing she'd been able to bring her boys to the beach more often when they were young. She would make it a point to take Amelia to the beach while she had her.

Lucien had donned a pair of sunglasses to manage the glare coming off the water, but Jean could see him peering intently out to sea. "Is there something out there?" she asked, thinking he might be seeing a boat in distress.

"Hmm? No, I was just looking at the waves, the height of the surf."

They drove in silence for a while, enjoying the beautiful weather and the stunning view. After a while he reached for her hand, which she willingly gave, and they shared a smile. Jean could hardly remember a time when she'd felt so absolutely carefree and contented. In the back of her mind she pictured Grace Kelly in "To Catch a Thief", riding along the Riviera in a convertible with Cary Grant. Could she ever have imagined her life would be like this?

She leaned back and closed her eyes, enjoying the sunshine on her face. He squeezed her hand, then brought it to his lips for a quick kiss. She opened her eyes and smiled at him, just as he turned the car off the highway. A few minutes later they were pulling into the parking lot of a supermarket.

Inside, they each took a cart. As Lucien had made paella before, he concentrated on the ingredients needed for that, while Jean headed for the produce section and what was required for a salad. When they met up at the bakery area, Jean noticed that Lucien had added two very large turkeys to the seafood and chicken for the paella. "For tomorrow," he explained.

"Ah," said Jean.

"I hope you and Amelia like turkey."

"I do, and Amelia is not a fussy eater. I'm sure it will be fine," said Jean.

Lucien waved his hand to indicate themselves and the groceries. "I can't help feeling this is like a scene from a rom-com."

"Watch a lot of those, do you?" she teased.

"I've seen more than enough. With my neighbor, Mattie O'Brien, the nurse I mentioned, you'll meet her tomorrow. She comes over every time she has a break-up with a boyfriend. Cries on my shoulder, then I make popcorn and she insists I watch movies with her."

"Well, then, in that case, you know that this is the point where you're supposed to juggle apples or something to make me laugh," she said.

He grinned. "Will peppers do instead?" He reached into his cart and then juggled three bell peppers while making silly faces.

Dutifully, she laughed at his antics, then applauded as he finished with a flourish. "You know your rom-coms," she said approvingly.

"Now, in that vein, I suppose we'll have to sing while we prepare the meal," said Lucien.

"Would that be so bad?" asked Jean. "Although I'm not sure 'Baby, It's Cold Outside' would be very appropriate tonight."

"No reason we still couldn't cuddle afterwards though," Lucien returned, grinning.

"No reason at all," she agreed. "Now, do we have everything we need?" she asked, as she placed a box of assorted pastries in her cart for dessert.

He reached for several fruit pies and added them to his cart. "Now we are. These are for tomorrow."

Their haul filled up the entire trunk of the car, as well as most of the back seat. Lucien drove more slowly so as not to jostle his load any more than necessary. By this point, Jean was eager to see his house, and luckily it was only a few miles away. As he pulled off the road and into a driveway, she realized it was right on the beach. His backyard literally ended at the ocean.

"Lucien, when you said you lived near the beach, I had no idea you meant fifty feet from the water. This is quite something."

He put the car into Park, then hurried around to open her door. As she emerged she heard someone call out, "Lucien!" A young woman, early twenties Jean guessed, was hurrying toward them from the house next door.

"Mattie," he greeted her, with a kiss on her cheek. "Merry Christmas."

"You, too. I'm sorry to interrupt, but I forgot to ask you what I should bring tomorrow."

"A few bottles of wine, maybe? Actually, I'm glad you came over. I wanted you to meet Jean. Jean Beazley, Mattie O'Brien, the nurse I told you about. Mattie, Jean is.."

"I know exactly who Jean is. I saw the review in this morning's paper. Lovely to meet you, Jean."

"Thank you. They were very flattering."

"I repeat, it isn't flattery if it's true," said Lucien. "You should really come to hear her, Mattie."

"I was already planning to come to the club this weekend," said Mattie. "I'm off for the rest of the week."

"You aren't going to Sacramento to be with your parents for the holidays?" He turned to explain to Jean, "Mattie's father is Martin O'Brien, the California State Treasurer."

"You think I want to spend my precious time off going to formal dinners with stuffy politicians, just because he plans to run for governor next year? And listening to my father lecture me that I should have gone to law school? No, thank you. Believe me, your Christmas dinner will be much more fun. It's a tradition, after all."

"Well, then, I'll look forward to talking with you tomorrow," said Jean.

"By the way, Lucien, did you know your father's in Vienna? Your mother's probably alone for Christmas."

Jean could see Lucien clench his jaw in anger. "Bloody hell," he said under his breath. "Thank you for telling me, Mattie."

"I thought you'd want to know."

"Maybe she could come to your dinner tomorrow, if she's going to be alone?" Jean suggested.

"Exactly what I was thinking," said Lucien. He seemed to set his anger aside, now that he had a solution for the problem. "Mattie, Jean is looking for a new place to live."

"Really?" The girl's eyes lit up. "You don't smoke do you? Or throw wild parties?"

Jean laughed. "No, I don't smoke, and I can't remember the last time I even attended a wild party. Why?"

"I have an empty guest house that never gets used. I've been looking to rent it out again, but the last time I did, it was such a nightmare that I've been hesitant to advertise it. But if Lucien vouches for you, that's good enough for me."

She pointed to a charming little cottage on the next lot. It had a veranda along the ocean side, with a couple of lounge chairs. "If you're interested," Mattie continued, "I can show it to you."

"I'm interested," Jean said. "Just let me help get the groceries inside, then I'd love to see it."

"I'll take care of these, you go," said Lucien.

"Thank you," said Jean, patting his shoulder.

She followed Mattie across the yard and over to the guest house.

"I hope you like it," said Mattie. "It's furnished, but if you have your own stuff, we can put anything you don't want to use into storage." Unlocking and opening the door, she stepped back to allow Jean to enter.

It was a very open layout - the kitchen, dining area, and lounge were essentially one very large room. Only the bedroom and bathroom were enclosed. There were large windows everywhere, providing plenty of natural light, and everything was new and clean. The furnishings were all tasteful, in neutral colors, and the pale hardwood floors were gleaming. The kitchen drew her over to check out the appliances, which were gleaming and of good quality. Everything she needed to begin really cooking again.

It was the bedroom that really sold her on it - light and airy with a spectacular view of the ocean. She could just imagine waking up to the sound of the surf and seagulls each morning.

"I know it's small," said Mattie, "but what do you think?"

"It's actually quite a bit larger than my current apartment," Jean admitted. "What do I think? I think I'm in love with this place."

Mattie beamed. "That's great! It would be so nice to have a female neighbor, too. I love Lucien; he's very kind and tries his best to sympathize, but sometimes you just need another woman to vent to."

"I can understand that," said Jean, with a smile.

They quickly agreed on a monthly rent, and Mattie told Jean she was free to move in whenever she liked. They could sign a formal rental agreement right after the holiday.

"Thank you, Mattie. This is such a lovely place, and I'm looking forward to moving in. It's a weight off my mind to have it all settled."

"You're welcome. You're doing me a favor as well, having someone I can depend on to take over the house. I have a hunch we're going to get along just fine."

Feeling that she'd not only found a new home, but also made a new friend, Jean headed over to Lucien's house.


	11. Chapter 11

Still jubilant that she had settled her living arrangements, Jean made her way across the sandy lawn from Mattie's house to Lucien's. She had noticed which door he used while unloading the groceries and figured (correctly) that it must open into the kitchen. She could see him through the screen as he peeled and cleaned the shrimp.

"Hello," she called softly. "May I come in?"

"Of course," he said. "_Mi casa es su casa,_ especially if you'll be living next door."

"And it looks like I will be," she said, letting herself in since his hands were occupied.

He gave her a big smile as he nodded for her to take a seat. "I'll be done with these in just a minute, then I can show you around." He nodded toward a huge tower of fresh fruit wrapped in festively colored cellophane. "Help yourself if you're hungry."

Jean picked out a couple of large strawberries to eat, and while she waited she glanced around the kitchen. Judging by what she saw, he was serious about cooking. It was a huge room, dominated by the island on which he was currently working. Not a lot of gadgets, just essential appliances, and of good quality, from what she could tell.

He finished with the shrimp and placed them on ice in the refrigerator that was practically as large as Jean's whole kitchen in the studio apartment. Then he washed his hands and cleaned up the mess.

She nodded approvingly. "I see you tidy up as you go. My kind of cook," she told him.

That earned her a grin. "I knew we'd be compatible in the kitchen. Now, let me show you around."

The house seemed much larger inside than it appeared from the outside, which had worried her if he was planning to have a dozen guests for Christmas dinner. And when he showed her the large porch that stretched across the entire side facing the beach, she understood how he could accommodate so many guests. It was like an extension of the living room and kitchen.

Upstairs there were four bedrooms. His and one of the guest rooms shared a balcony that also looked out onto the beach, accessed by floor-to-ceiling French doors. The view was spectacular.

"I can't wait to move out here now," Jean sighed. "It seems so perfect. So tell me about the downside to living at the beach."

"The commute into the city is long at the best of times," he said. "Even worse in winters when there are mudslides closing the highway, the PCH. And, of course, in the summer it's more at risk for wildfires than in the city proper."

"Oh, I hadn't really thought about the commute," said Jean.

"We can always carpool to the club on nights we're both working. It would be rather irresponsible not to, don't you think?"

"I'd like that. And if you've lived here for so long you must know all the shortcuts."

"As a matter of fact, I do," he said with a smile. "And for the right price I may just share them with you."

"And just what would that price be?" asked Jean with a mock frown.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe some more of your shortbread?"

"Done. Now, then, hadn't we better get started on this dinner of ours?"

"Soon. Just one more room I'd like to show you," said Lucien. He held out his hand to her, and she gladly accepted it. "My refuge."

He led her back down the stairs and then down another flight. She noticed that even the sounds of traffic and the surf were muffled there below the ground. He opened a heavy, thick door and flicked on the lights.

"Oh, my," said Jean. She had thought he must have a piano somewhere in the house but hadn't seen one until now. A gleaming black baby grand piano stood in one corner of the large room, and the wall behind it was covered with guitars, a ukulele, a mandolin, and a couple of other stringed instruments that she couldn't name. The opposite corner held a pair of comfortable chairs, with floor-to ceiling bookshelves behind it. Another wall held shelves of music media - vinyl albums, cds, even some reel-to-reel tapes. And the final wall held banks of audio equipment, much of it so sophisticated that Jean could only guess at its function.

"I had all of this installed when I was still recovering," he explained. "I needed a place where I could shut the whole world out. It's nearly soundproof, and when I put some music on, I can pretty well forget everything else exists. Is there anything in particular you'd like to hear?"

Her heart clenched at the thought that he had needed to isolate himself completely at times, but she could understand that the world might have seemed a very scary place after what he'd endured. Trying not to let him think he could see pity on her face, she walked over to study the titles on the vinyl. One immediately drew her eye. "Billie Holiday singing with the Count Basie Band? Where did you find this? I've been looking for this for years."

"Cec Drury found it for me. You know Cec?"

"Yes, of course, the bartender at the club," said Jean.

"He's also a music collector. Knows everything there is to know about the history of the blues."

"Really? I had no idea. I'll have to make it a point to talk with him more."

"He'll be here tomorrow," said Lucien. "He's a fascinating man. Very knowledgeable."

He removed the vinyl from its sleeve and placed it on the turntable. "I thought we could listen while we're making dinner," he said, pressing a button to activate the music system.

She followed him back up the stairs. It seemed there were speakers throughout the house and even on the rear porch so the music could be heard anywhere. Jean found herself humming along to "They Can't Take That Away".

When they were back in the kitchen, she said, "Now, dinner. How do you want to go about this? Shall I do one and you the other or shall we work together on both?"

"Have you ever made paella before?"

She shook her head. "I've eaten it a couple of times, and I love it, but the ingredients are so expensive that I didn't dare try making it in case it came out wrong and I'd wasted all that."

"Then we should definitely make it together so you can gain the confidence to make it yourself whenever you want."

"That sounds perfect. Where do we start?"

He pulled up the recipe on his iPad and she set to work on the saffron and chicken broth while he began chopping parsley and garlic, and juicing lemons. Then while she lightly sautéed the chicken breasts, followed by the shrimp, he went outside to get the fire pit going, then came back to the kitchen to clean peppers and onions.

While they worked, they chatted, mostly about their respective childhoods. Jean told of growing up on the farm, how she loved taking care of the animals.

"I've missed having animals around," she told him. "How do you think Mattie would feel about it if I got a cat for company?"

He chuckled. "I can guarantee that Mattie wouldn't mind at all. You haven't met Scout yet, have you?"

"Scout?"

"Technically Scout is my cat. She adopted me at a gas station just off the freeway one night when I was driving back from San Diego. The attendant said she'd been there all day, no collar or tag on her. He was about to close up for the night, and since she was so friendly, I was afraid she'd wander out onto the road when there was no one around, so I took her in the car with me. I brought her to a vet in the morning to check for a microchip but she didn't have one. So now she technically lives here, but spends an equal amount of time over at Mattie's."

"I'd love to meet her," said Jean.

"You will. As soon as we start cooking over the fire, she'll smell the food and put in an appearance."

"So she's an outdoor cat?"

"Only during the day. Unless I'm outside with her, she's in the house as soon as it starts to get dark. We sometimes have coyotes in the neighborhood, and they've been known to attack small pets."

Jean's eyes widened. "That's good to know, in case I do get one."

"Yes, I had intended her to be an indoor cat, but she had other ideas, and she's an escape artist. You wouldn't believe the tiny holes she can wriggle through when she's determined, so she got her own way after all."

"I look forward to meeting her."

Lucien smiled, one animal lover to another. "Now, I think we're about ready to take this outside. Let me put most of it onto a tray to carry out, and if you'll take the paella pan, we'll be in business."

The hot pan had the vegetables and aromatics so she handled it carefully as she made her way out to the fire. And just as Lucien had predicted, a tabby cat made her way over to where Lucien was laying out the food to be added to the paella. As soon as he had emptied the tray, he picked up the rather small cat, holding her at his chest. She immediately snuggled against his neck. Jean could hear her purring.

"What a beauty she is," Jean observed. "Will she let me pet her?"

"She'll insist on it," said Lucien, as Scout lifted her head and turned to look.

Jean reached to stroke her, and the cat leaned into it

"I'll have to put her in the house while we eat," said Lucien. "Otherwise she'll beg to be fed from the table, and she's very good at begging."

"I'll just bet she is. How could anyone resist that face?" Jean laughed.

"If you want to finish up here, I'll just take her inside to feed her and throw the salad together."

The sun was setting as Jean finished stirring the rice and then added the meat and seafood back into the pan. It all smelled delicious. Jean felt proud of herself, as the dish looked just as good as it smelled. Lucien brought out the crusty bread wrapped in foil, and he set it in the pit to warm as the paella finished. The final steps were to remove it from the heat, sprinkle on lemon juice, and cover it with a towel to rest for ten minutes.

While waiting, they set the table out on the porch, and Lucien opened a bottle of Chardonnay. When all was ready, they sat down to eat just as the setting sun met the horizon in a display of brilliant pink and orange.

"To a beautiful evening and a beautiful lady," said Lucien, raising his wine glass.

Jean blushed at the compliment but lifted her own glass. "This has been fun. Maybe we can do it again once I've moved."

"I'd like to do it regularly on nights we aren't working," Lucien agreed.

"I'll be so glad to move out of that hole in the wall," said Jean as a soft breeze ruffled her hair. "I never thought I'd be able to find something like this. To be honest, I thought it would be years before I established myself enough in the business to make the kind of money I'm making."

"Don't tell that to Matthew," Lucien joked. "Seriously, you're worth every penny. The crowds are already larger. I imagine we'll be standing room only after that review. May need to check the fire codes about overcrowding."

"Speaking of money if I may, I think I'm going to need to hire a financial adviser. I've never had enough money to worry about it before. Do you know of anyone you could recommend?"

"I do, actually. He doesn't normally take on new clients these days, but I'm sure he would if I asked him. That big basket of fruit inside is from him."

"Oh?" said Jean, sensing a story behind it.

"I've known him since we were both kids. Patrick is a couple years older than me, closer to my brother's age. Our parents knew each other, so we saw one other at social events. Then when I went to UCLA, Patrick was already there. He was a business major, and I think his father had asked him to keep an eye on me. Anyway, when I left school to join the army, he was just getting his investment broker's license and was looking to start his own firm, so I gave him power-of-attorney to look after the money that had been put away for me."

Jean waved a hand to indicate the beautiful house he now had. "Your friend Patrick must have known what he was doing."

"He did indeed. Invested in a lot of tech stocks and got out of most of them before the crash."

Her eyes widened. Finance was certainly not her area of expertise, but if Patrick had timed the dealings just right, Lucien must be very wealthy indeed. "So why aren't you living in Beverly Hills or Pacific Palisades with all the really rich people?"

"I have everything I need right here, and the neighbors are much friendlier, believe me. I grew up in Pacific Palisades, you may recall. The only time you even see your neighbors is through the tinted windows of their BMWs. No, thank you. And Mattie has similar stories about growing up in Beverly Hills."

"So you don't hang out with the Kardashians?" she teased.

"No, I'm afraid not. Disappointed?"

"More like relieved," said Jean. "Somehow, I don't think I'd fit in."

"Their loss." He paused. "Actually, I may be required to hang out with some of them for an evening in January. I'm told they've been invited to the annual charity ball my parents host. I'm expected to put in an appearance every year, since I'm on the board of the charity's foundation. I don't suppose you'd like to come with me? Your company would make the night bearable."

"Really? What kind of a charity is it?"

"It provides music lessons for children who otherwise couldn't afford it, now that the public schools have stopped teaching music. My father started it with money from my concerts when I got very upset at hearing that music was being cut due to funding."

"That was decent of him," Jean observed.

"Yes, well, there's an overly dramatic backstory behind it, but he does keep it going and children benefit from it, so that's what's important. And at the ball we present a couple of scholarships for students to attend Fine Arts programs at the college of their choice. What do you say, will you make the evening infinitely better by accompanying me?"

"I can't exactly abandon you to your fate, can I?" she said with a smile. "Yes, I'd love to come with you. It's formal?"

"I'm afraid so. Is that a problem?"

"I suppose I'll have to buy a new dress. Not exactly a problem, no. Since Matthew said the party at the club on New Year's Eve is formal too, I needed one anyway. Two birds, one stone. Just one thing, though. If I stare at Kim Kardashian, pinch me before I make a fool of myself."

"It's a deal. But only if I can also pinch her if she is staring at you in jealousy because you're the loveliest woman there."

"Since that definitely won't happen, you're on."

The sun had disappeared long before, and after finishing the meal and lingering over a final glass of wine, they began to clear away the dishes and take them back into the kitchen. True to form, Scout the cat weaved herself between their legs and loudly protested that they hadn't shared their meal with her.

"I know it isn't really good for her, but how can I say no to that?" Lucien remarked as he leaned down to give her a single piece of shrimp.

He was just standing up again when a loud popping noise came from the direction of the beach. Jean spun to look, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw a blur as Scout raced to hide.

"Someone starting the Christmas celebration a little early," said Jean. "I've never understood how firing guns in the air equates to celebrating, but to each his own, I suppose. Poor Scout." She turned back to Lucien and was startled by the change in him. A moment before he had been smiling and joking, but now he stood frozen, his eyes glazed over and he was visibly trembling. Then he shot out of the room, much as Scout had.

Jean cursed herself for a fool. Gunshots. Of course they would be just as terrifying to him, after what he'd been through. The cleaning up could wait. Seeing to Lucien was much more important.

_A/N: Like Jean, I've never understood the custom of firing guns in the air at certain holidays. When I moved to Los Angeles it genuinely shocked me the first time I heard it. Needless to say, the local authorities frown upon the practice, but it still continues._


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: This chapter picks up immediately from where the last one ended._

Jean looked in dismay toward the doorway through which Lucien had disappeared. A moment later he raced back, eyes wide in panic, and said hoarsely. "We have to hide! Quickly!"

He tugged on her arm, and she went with him. They practically ran to the stairs and down to the music room. It really was his refuge, she realized.

Once inside, he bolted the door behind them and then went to the corner behind the chairs and huddled into a ball there, his knees drawn up to his chest, still shaking with terror.

As terrible as Jean felt for him, that he had to go through this, she was incredibly touched that in the midst of his panic he had thought to try to protect her. Still, she had no idea how to help him get past what she could only think was a flashback.

He motioned for her to join him, so she went there and slid down to a sitting position beside him, then tentatively put her arms around him. He moved closer, molding himself against her. When she tried to speak, he put a finger to her lips and whispered, "They'll find us."

She could only imagine what he was experiencing. In his mind were they escaping from his captors? What did he think would happen if they were found? But more importantly, how could she help him emerge from this wide-awake nightmare?

From her position on the floor she could see the cat crouched beneath one of the chairs. With the door now closed and the sound muffled, Scout seemed to be recovering from her own fright. She eased herself out from underneath and moved toward Lucien as if sensing his frame of mind. When she reached him, she rubbed against his leg and butted it with her forehead. He did not respond so she managed to wriggle into his lap and softly mewed.

Jean tried to recall what she'd read on PTSD and flashbacks. She'd heard all the statistics about it when Christopher was deployed to the Middle East and had done some research in case she needed to deal with it when he returned. Of course he'd never made it back to her.

From what she remembered, sometimes sensory stimuli would help the sufferer return to the present. Perhaps Scout's presence would help there, and she would do what she could herself. She moved even closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. If he turned his head toward her, he couldn't help but smell her perfume and shampoo. She also reached up a hand to stroke his cheek gently. At first he flinched at the contact, but when she continued, eventually he leaned into her touch.

She watched him closely, and little by little his eyes seemed to regain focus. His hand on the side away from her reached out to stroke Scout, and then he was back. He shuddered violently before seeing her there beside him and turning away in shame.

Jean refused to let him make it into something it wasn't. Her voice took on a no-nonsense tone. "Right, now. Do you think you can stand? You'd be much more comfortable in a chair, I think."

He started to speak, but had to clear his throat first. "Jean, I...". He stopped, looking uncertain for the first time since she'd met him.

"How about I get you something to drink? Water? Tea? Whiskey?"

"Er, yes, water, please," he managed.

She held out a hand to help him up, and he took it gratefully. He was unsteady as he moved into one of the chairs, still holding Scout to his chest.

"I'll be right back," she promised. "You'll be all right?"

"I'm fine now," he assured her. "Just..." He waved a hand in the air as if to indicate the whole situation.

She leaned down to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Don't go anywhere," she whispered, giving him a smile before she ran upstairs to the kitchen.

There was still cleanup to do from dinner, but that could wait until she was sure Lucien was all right. She took a quick look at the clock and winced at the time, after 11pm, before digging her phone out of her purse and calling Matthew's number.

"What?" he growled in answer.

"Matthew, it's Jean Beazley. I'm sorry it's so late, but I need to speak with Alice and I didn't have her number."

"Lucien?" he asked.

"Yes," she said.

Immediately Alice was on the phone. "What's happened?"

"He just had an episode, a flashback, I think. Someone was shooting off a gun outside."

Alice cursed. "How is he now?"

"He seems to have come out of it. He's still downstairs, very weak and somewhat embarrassed that I saw it, but he seems lucid and he's reacting properly, as far as I can tell."

"That's good. Just stay with him until he's fully recovered, if you would. If you can get him to talk about it, all the better, but don't force it. If he seems agitated, he has a bottle of Zoloft that can help calm him down. Feel free to call me if you need anything."

"Thank you, Alice."

"I'll call him in the morning to assess if his condition, but he should bounce back pretty quickly."

"Good to hear. Thank you again, and Merry Christmas."

Jean put the phone in her pocket, just in case, then got Lucien's water and returned downstairs. He had barely moved while she had been gone, although the cat was nowhere to be seen now. His eyes met Jean's as soon as she entered, and they seemed to ask a question of her. She smiled at him reassuringly.

"Still good?" she asked.

He nodded, accepting the proffered water with a very soft, "Thank you, Jean."

Jean wondered what was going through his mind. Clearly he was embarrassed that she had seen him at his weakest point, but it seemed deeper than that. She couldn't help but wonder if someone else had witnessed a similar episode of his, and punished him for it in some way. Was that what had caused his wife to leave him? In any case, she needed to make sure he knew that she wasn't going anywhere. Lucien was a good man, and the fact that he was still suffering as a result of a heroic action certainly didn't diminish that.

She sat down opposite him and waited while he emptied the glass. He refused to meet her eyes, even when she held out her hand to take the empty glass. She knew that the next few minutes could determine if they would have any future together. She needed to make him see that she thought no less of him for what had just happened.

"Better?" she asked gently.

"Yes, thank you."

"Shall we sit here a while longer or do you feel steady enough to go back upstairs now?"

He seemed to grope through his mind for what had been going on before the incident occurred. "Right, we need to finish cleaning up from dinner," he said slowly, then looked at her to be sure he'd gotten it right.

"There isn't too much left to do," she assured him, with a smile. "It's a good thing we washed up as we went."

He took a deep breath, and then finally looked her in the eyes as though studying her reactions. "Jean, that can wait until the morning, if you want to go home now," he said slowly. "I'm afraid it's not safe for me to drive at the moment, but you can take the car, I'll pick it up in the morning. There's a GPS receiver in the glove box, if you need directions to get home."

Jean was startled. Obviously he was expecting her to flee, now that she'd seen him at his lowest point. Someone had definitely treated him very badly over it in the past. She had to get this right, make him see she wasn't like that.

"Nonsense," she said firmly. "First of all, I never leave behind a mess that I helped cause. And secondly, I'm not about to leave without being absolutely sure that you're all right. I know you well enough to know you'd never do that to me. Why do you think I'd do it to you?"

She watched tears well up in his eyes. Quickly she moved over to hug him. He returned the embrace, holding on as though his very life were at stake.

"Jean," he whispered, smoothing his hands up and down her back as his grip eased.

She stood up. "Now if you feel up to it, we'll go back to the kitchen, where I can put things to rights in no time, and you can tell me where everything goes. I'll need to know these things if we plan to make cooking together a regular occurrence."

He gave her a genuine smile, one that reached his lovely eyes. "I like the sound of that," he told her, taking her hand as they headed for the stairs. He paused only long enough to take his ukulele from its place on the wall. "If you're going to do all the work, the least I can do is entertain you."

Jean made quick work of putting away the leftover food and washing the dishes while Lucien sat at the table to play and sang Doctor John's 'Wash, Mama, Wash', which had them both laughing in no time. If it weren't for the strain that still showed around his eyes and the slight pallor of his skin, she might not have known about the ordeal he'd just experienced.

With the final piece of cutlery put away, she wiped her hands on a towel and turned to smile at him. "Finished."

"Thank you, Jean. I'll do it next time," he promised.

"It's a deal."

"Now, about getting you home."

"You should know, I called Alice when I came up here before," Jean told him. "She said she'd call you in the morning, but that it wasn't a good idea for you to be alone tonight."

He arched an eyebrow at her.

"I know you aren't in any condition for us to do anything," she continued, "and we haven't exactly discussed taking that step anyway, but I would like to stay tonight, be close to you."

"Jean, you are an absolute marvel," he said in awe. "You're right, I'm not fit to really show how much you mean to me, but if I could just hold you, that would be, well, that would mean the world to me."

"Then it's settled, except for something to wear. Maybe a shirt or a t-shirt? Oh, and a toothbrush?"

"That I can do," said Lucien with a grin.

He locked up the house, after making certain that Scout was inside, then together they went up to his bedroom. He opened his closet and took out a white silk shirt. When she held it up against herself, it was the perfect length for a nightshirt.

"Hmm, I'll never wear that shirt again without thinking of you," he told her.

"It's very nice," she said, running the luxurious material through her fingers. "I was thinking of keeping it."

"Consider it yours," he said. "Now for a toothbrush."

He showed her to the _en suite _for the bedroom next to his own. The bathroom was as fully stocked as any high-end hotel, including not only toothbrush and paste but hairbrush, soap, moisturizer, shampoo and conditioner, blow dryer, and curling iron. When she looked a question at him, he explained, "My cousin Catherine drops in regularly when she's in town. It's easier to keep it fully stocked than to listen to her complain."

"I see. It looks as though Catherine has quite expensive taste in toiletries."

"Catherine has quite expensive tastes in everything, but not always the means to indulge her tastes. At the moment she seems to be in her grandmother's good graces, so she's traveling in Europe. Feel free to help yourself to anything."

"I will," said Jean.

"I'll leave you to it, then," he said with a smile, closing the door behind him as he left.

As Jean started to remove her makeup and brush out her hair, she started to feel nervous. She hadn't slept with a man since Christopher left for the Middle East years ago. When her boys were young, it had taken all her time and energy to feed and raise them. The idea of romance for herself wasn't even an afterthought. Since they'd moved out to be on their own, she'd dated a few times, but no one she'd seriously considered a future with. Her religion and her self-respect had left her wary of casual sex for its own sake. And now, even though she knew she and Lucien would not be engaging in sexual activities on this night, she still felt apprehensive. But this time it was because she actually could envision a future with Lucien. What would he think of her without makeup? Did she snore or have other totally unattractive habits when asleep? Did he?

Well, she decided, better to find out sooner rather than later whether they were compatible sleeping partners. She finished her nightly routine and made her way back to his bedroom, only to find it empty.

"Out here," he called softly from the balcony.

She went out to join him and found him looking out over the moonlit water.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? I find it calming," he said.

"Yes, it is beautiful, and calming." She studied him for a moment. "How are you doing?"

"Very much better, thanks to you, my dear."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it. Would you like to talk about what happened?"

"If I could talk about it to anyone, it would be you, Jean, but I.." He seemed to flounder.

"Shh. It's all right if you can't. Now, shouldn't you get some sleep? You must be worn out, and it'll be a busy day ahead."

He nodded. He seemed to be as nervous as she was, so she tried to ease the tension. "Do you have a preferred side?" she asked as they made their way inside.

"You choose," he said quietly.

"All right." She turned down the side toward the French doors and matter-of-factly slid into bed. He did the same on the opposite side. Somewhat tentatively they met in the middle.

He leaned up on one elbow. "Would you mind if I kissed you good night?"

"I insist you kiss me good night," she told him with a smile.

Given their circumstances, he made it a rather chaste one, which she appreciated. No sense in starting something that couldn't lead anywhere.

When it was over, he slid down beside her. She snuggled closer until he put his arm around her.

"Sweet dreams," he whispered into the darkness.

She surprised herself by falling asleep rather quickly.


	13. Chapter 13

Jean awoke feeling warm and comfortable. Instantly she realized where she was, and at the same time realized how much she'd missed sleeping with a partner. Lucien's arm was still around her, and when she looked over at him he was smiling gently at her. The sparkle had returned to his eyes, and he looked much more like his usual, confident self.

"Good morning," he said when he saw she was awake.

"Merry Christmas. You're looking much better."

"How could I not be better, waking up with such a beautiful woman in my arms?" he said.

She knew this could quickly escalate, and she didn't want their first time making love to be out of gratitude or sympathy. "Yes, well, thank you for the compliment, but I need to get back home or I'll never make it to Mass in time."

"We could go to Mass here in Malibu," he offered. "The clothes you wore to dinner would be perfectly acceptable there, from what I've seen. We can do a quick load of laundry to freshen up anything that needs it, and then I can take you back to your place to change afterwards."

"I didn't realize you were Catholic."

He gave a wry smile. "Let's just say I was raised as a Catholic. I'm afraid I lost all my religion along the way, but if it means another hour in your company, I'm willing to sit through Mass."

When she emerged from the guest bathroom, dressed and made up for the day, she went downstairs to find Lucien. He was out on the porch that faced the ocean, and she could hear him talking on the phone. When he saw her about to retreat and give him privacy, he motioned for her to join him as he was just finishing up.

"À tout à l'heure, Maman*," he was saying. "Joyeux Noël."

He disconnected the call and smiled at Jean.

"My mother has agreed to come for Christmas dinner," he explained. "I thought we could pick her up on the way back from your place."

"I look forward to meeting her," said Jean, and she did, even if she found the prospect somewhat daunting. "Oh, and I need to find out when Christopher plans to drop off Amelia. We'll need to work around that, too."

"Or you could call Christopher and suggest we pick her up instead, save him going out of his way, since they need to get to the airport."

"That would probably work better," Jean agreed. "I'll call him on the way to church."

"We'd better take the other car, then, to be sure there's room for Amelia's car seat as well as my mother."

The priest kept his homily and readings brief, so that an hour later they were pulling up in front of Jean's apartment building. Just as Lucien turned off the Range Rover's engine, his phone buzzed. It was Alice checking on him.

"I'll wait for you here while you do whatever you need to do," Lucien told Jean. "We have plenty of time, no need to rush. Text me if you need anything, yes?"

"Will do," said Jean, before hurrying inside.

She changed her clothes and touched up her hair and makeup. They still had nearly an hour before they were due to pick up Amelia, and she wanted to allow Lucien plenty of time to speak with Alice in private. She sat down and dashed off a quick notice to advise her landlord that she would not be renewing her apartment lease. Then she pulled out a suitcase and began packing some items to transfer to the new place - spare makeup and toiletries, a complete change of clothes, a nightgown, and a robe. If there was another occasion that called for her to sleep at the beach before she moved, she wanted to be prepared.

She glanced out the window and saw that Lucien was still on his phone, so she packed up a couple of boxes with books, CDs and various other items. Since Lucien had the larger vehicle with plenty of cargo space, she didn't think he'd mind if she took advantage of it. That much less to transport later during the actual move.

She taped up the boxes then glanced out the window once more. Lucien was standing outside the car, looking up toward the window. When he spotted her, he waved. He was finished with his call to Alice, so she texted him to ask if he could give her a hand. He was happy to oblige. He also offered her the use of the vehicle whenever she wanted to transport additional loads.

"Rather than hiring a mover on the actual day, you could rent a truck, and if you ask nicely we can probably get the band to help with the larger items. Some beer and your shortbread will be ample reimbursement."

"You think so?" said Jean. "With all the horror stories I've read about movers, I wasn't looking forward to dealing with one."

"I'm sure of it," said Lucien. "You just need to decide when you want to do it. A weekend would be best. Some of them work as studio musicians during the week."

"Then I'll get to work on moving all the smaller things right away," said Jean with a smile. What a relief, not to have to hire a moving company. One more reason to be grateful to Lucien.

After stowing the cartons in the rear of the vehicle, they set off for Christopher's bungalow, arriving precisely at the time Jean had specified.

"Will you come in with me? Meet Christopher's wife Ruby?"

"I'd be delighted," said Lucien.

"And just so you know, Amelia can be shy with strangers, especially men, so don't take it personally if she doesn't warm up to you right away."

"I won't be offended," he said as he opened her car door.

Instinctively she held his hand as they walked up to the door. Christopher was opening it when they stepped onto the porch. "Merry Christmas, Mum," he said kissing her cheek. "Nice to see you again, Lucien. Please come in. I hope having Amelia won't spoil any plans you had for the day."

"Nonsense," Lucien assured him. "Having a little one at Christmas only makes the holiday even better."

"Ruby will be out in a minute. She's just packing up the last-minute things for Amelia. And Amelia is helping, of course, or she'd be finished already."

"Maybe you can help Lucien install the car seat in his car," Jean suggested. "I'll see if there's anything I can do to help Ruby."

The men went outside, with Christopher talking as much as Jean had ever seen. Clearly he and Lucien had hit it off, which warmed her heart. She made her way to the baby's room, where Amelia was making her opinion known, despite having a very limited vocabulary.

"Hello, Ruby. Merry Christmas," Jean said, by way of announcing her presence.

"Jean, it's lovely to see you." Ruby gave her a hug. "I can't tell you how grateful I am that you can take her while we're away. One less thing to worry about."

"I'm happy to help out. How's your mother doing? Any news?"

"She's a little stronger today, but her doctors don't hold out much hope. They're afraid she's just holding on until we get there, so she can say goodbye."

"Oh, my dear, I'm so sorry. She's such a lovely woman. I'll keep her and you in my prayers."

"Thank you, and now do you think you can distract madam here so I can finish up?"

"My pleasure," said Jean, holding out her arms to her granddaughter.

Amelia toddled over. "Gamma!"

Jean swept her up into a hug. "Hello, my sweet girl. Merry Christmas, darling."

"May Chismis," Amelia managed.

"I'll bet you got some presents, didn't you? You've been a good girl?"

Amelia nodded and pointed to herself. "Good gir'."

"We didn't go overboard with the presents this year," Ruby explained, "since she hardly knows what Christmas is. A new doll and some books, which I've packed in her bag for you." Ruby paused. "Oh, I forgot to congratulate you on the review in the paper. It's wonderful. I'm so happy that this is working out for you. You need to tell me about this Lucien Blake when we have more time."

"How about you meet him for yourself? He's helping Christopher install the car seat."

Ruby smiled and raised her eyebrows. "Is he now? He's a part of the plans you mentioned you had for the day?"

Jean didn't respond except for the twinkling of her eyes.

"Well, now, I can't wait. I think we're done here."

Lucien and Christopher were just returning when they walked out into the living room.

"Ruby, this is Lucien Blake. Lucien, my daughter-in-law, Ruby Beazley."

"An absolute pleasure to meet you. I'm so very sorry to hear your mother is doing poorly," said Lucien.

"Very nice to meet you as well," said Ruby.

"And this is Amelia," Jean continued, with the little girl still in her arms.

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Amelia," said Lucien, smiling at her.

To everyone's surprise, Amelia held her arms out to him.

"May I?" he asked Ruby and Christopher.

"I think you'd better," said Ruby, with a smile..

Lucien took her into his arms. Amelia leaned back to study him, then giggled and buried her face against his neck.

"The Blake charm seems to work on women of every age," Jean noted drolly.

"We'll get on just fine, won't we, Amelia?" he said to the toddler, walking his fingers along her back to make her giggle once again.

Jean turned to Christopher and Ruby. "We'll leave so you can be on your way. Safe trip, and Ruby, please give your mother my best wishes."

"I will. Thank you for everything."

"Yes, Mum, thanks," said Christopher.

They took Amelia and her things and were on their way to pick up Lucien's mother. Jean sat in the back seat with Amelia, and saw Lucien keep glancing at her in the mirror.

"What's wrong?" he finally asked.

"Nothing's wrong. I'm just a bit nervous about meeting your mother, if you must know."

"My mother will love you," he insisted. "And if for some strange reason she didn't, (and it would be very strange indeed) that wouldn't have any effect on how I feel about you, Jean."

"I heard you speaking French with her on the phone. She does speak English, doesn't she? My high school French is very rusty."

"She speaks English perfectly. I only speak French with her so that mine doesn't become too rusty as well."

They turned off Sunset Boulevard and headed up into the hills on which the community of Pacific Palisades was perched. Jean had never really driven up here, and she could only stare at the opulence of the residences around them. "You grew up here?"

"More or less," said Lucien. "We moved here when I was eight. Of course, in my teens I spent a great deal of time traveling, but yes, this was home. Tommy and I used to call it the House of Horrors."

"Are you all right to go there now?" asked Jean.

"Yes, it's fine, especially when I know my father won't be there." He glanced back at her. "He just triggers anger, nothing more."

He pulled up to the entrance of a gated community, where a uniformed guard came over to speak to him. "Ah, Mister Blake, your mother is expecting you. Go on in."

"Thank you, Joe. Merry Christmas to you and the family. You'll be able to spend some time with them today, yes?"

"Shift is over in half an hour," the guard told him. "I'll be home an hour after that."

"Then enjoy the rest of your day."

"Thank you, sir. You, too."

Lucien drove through the gates and continued on up the hill until he finally turned into the driveway leading up to what Jean could only call a mansion. She felt distinctly out of place in the face of such extravagance. Huge columns dominated the front entrance, with an ornate fountain opposite. She could only imagine how many rooms it contained.

"Yes, I know it's all over-the-top, but that's my father for you. Would you like to come in?"

As curious as Jean was to see where he grew up, she was also feeling somewhat intimidated by it all. "It's probably better if Amelia and I wait for you here," she told him. "You go ahead."

He seemed to sense her discomfort. "Whatever you prefer," he said. "Jean, it's wealth. It has nothing to do with worth, the real measure of a person. You, my dear, have that in spades. I'll be right back."

Jean nodded. He really was very sweet. She hoped he took after his mother in that regard.

She entertained Amelia with a game of peekaboo while they waited.

* * *

* À tout à l'heure, Maman - See you later, Mother


	14. Chapter 14

Jean was playing with Amelia in the back seat of Lucien's car when the small girl's interest was caught elsewhere and she reached out a hand. Jean turned to look, and saw that Lucien was supporting an elderly woman as they walked down the front steps of the mansion he'd once called home.

Geneviève Blake was still a beautiful woman, with her immaculately coiffed silver hair and her piercing eyes reminiscent of Lucien's but darker in color. Jean got out of the car and opened the passenger side door for her.

"Maman, this is Jean Beazley. Jean, my mother Geneviève Etienne Blake."

"Mrs. Blake, so lovely to meet you," said Jean, holding her breath for the response.

"And you, my dear. Are you the one who has put such a smile on my Lucien's face?" she asked.

Jean exchanged a smile with Lucien. "I hope I've helped in that regard," she replied.

Lucien helped his mother into the car, where she immediately turned to greet Amanda. "Hello, young lady. Aren't you a pretty little girl."

"This is my granddaughter Amelia," said Jean. "She's just beginning to talk."

"Your granddaughter. How lovely that she can spend Christmas with you, and us."

"Yes. Unfortunately, her other grandmother is very ill so my son and his wife are on their way to be with her."

"I am so very sorry to hear that. We must do what we can to make Amelia's Christmas happy, then."

Lucien placed his mother's bag in the back and started the car. "Any more stops to make before we head back to the beach?"

"I don't think so, unless there's something we need for dinner," said Jean.

"That's all covered. Home, it is, then."

Jean breathed a sigh of relief. So far, so good with Lucien's mother.

She noticed the way Geneviève kept her hand on Lucien's forearm as he held the wheel. Jean understood perfectly, being somewhat similarly estranged from her own son Jack. When she did see him, the natural tendency was to try to hold onto him. At least Jean had never had to choose between her husband and her son, as Geneviève had been forced to do. Her heart went out to the poor woman. What comfort was a mansion when you had lost one child to war and the other to his father's tyranny?

Geneviève turned slightly to speak to Jean. "I saw the review of your performance in the paper yesterday. How thrilling for you. I know Lucien was never fond of reviews, no matter how flattering, but it will be a large boost to your career."

"I was quite fond of that review," said Lucien. "Jean is every bit as good as it said."

"Perhaps you could sing something for me today, yes?"

Jean paused. She certainly had no objection, but it was Lucien's home and as the host he should decide. Besides, what would Geneviève think of the kind of music she sang? Especially if her husband had such an aversion to it. "If Lucien doesn't mind," she told Geneviève hesitantly.

"We'll arrange something," said Lucien.

Jean noticed he was smiling broadly. "You're very cheerful," she noted.

"Why shouldn't I be? It's a lovely day and I have three beautiful ladies as company," he said, winking at her in the rear view mirror.

"Such a flatterer," said Geneviève, patting his arm.

"It isn't flattery if it's true."

"That's a favorite saying of his," Jean confided to Geneviève.

"Yes, especially when he's trying to sell a bill of goods," Geneviève returned, squeezing his arm to show it was all in good humor.

"I think I'm being ganged up on," said Lucien. "Amelia, will you be on my side?"

Amelia bounced up and down enthusiastically in her car seat.

"That must mean yes," said Jean. "She can say 'no' perfectly, like most children her age. Can't you, my darling girl?"

"No!" cried Amelia, bouncing again, and the adults had a difficult time not laughing at her antics.

"That's my girl," said Lucien.

When they reached the house, Mattie came out from it to greet them. "Good morning," she called. "The caterers just left. I was going to start putting everything in the fridge when I heard you pull up."

"Thank you, Mattie, we'll handle it," said Lucien as he helped Geneviève from the car. "Maman, you remember Mattie O'Brien, Martin's daughter."

"Yes, certainly. You're looking well, Mattie. A special boyfriend?"

Mattie kissed Geneviève on both cheeks. "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Blake. It's good to see you. And, no, no one special. I think I need to find a younger version of Lucien. Any suggestions?"

Geneviève laughed. "I'm afraid Lucien is quite unique, but I'm sure you'll find someone who's good enough to deserve you, my dear."

"I hope he shows up soon, then," said Mattie with a slight pout.

Jean had removed Amelia from the car, and she carried her around to where the others were standing.

"Mattie, this is my granddaughter, Amelia Beazley. And I wanted to let you know we brought some of my things over, if that's okay?"

"Yes, of course," Mattie assured her. "I gave you the key, right?"

"You did, thank you."

"Great. I'm just going to go get ready for this party. Be back in a while."

"And I think this one is due for a snack," said Jean, kissing the top of Amelia's head. "I hope Ruby packed her something."

"Go ahead and help yourself to anything you can find," said Lucien. "Plenty of fruit. I'll just unpack all of this."

Jean handed him the key to her new apartment so he could stow the items inside for her.

With Amelia wandering around the kitchen, apple slices in hand, and Geneviève sitting at the table with an iced tea, Lucien and Jean set to work on the two large turkeys.

"Lucien, how do you plan on fitting both of these in your oven?" Jean asked. "It's big, but not that big."

He turned to smile at her. "Only one is going in the oven. I'll deep fry the other over the fire pit outside. That way people will have a choice."

"Very clever," she told him. "Since I've never fried a turkey, I'll prep the the roasted one. That, I know how to do."

Geneviève chatted with them while they worked. Jean was a little surprised that neither she nor Lucien brought up any memories of the holidays when he was a child. Wasn't that what families did when they got together for Christmas? Was his whole childhood so bad that they didn't want to bring it up, she wondered.

Drawn by the smell of food, Scout the cat appeared at the door, much to Amelia's delight. She insisted on picking up the poor animal and carrying her around, with Scout wearing a long-suffering look of dismay.

"Scout won't scratch, will she?" Jean asked quietly.

"No. When she's had enough, she'll find a place to hide instead."

Jean watched Amelia play with the patient feline. "Gently," she warned. "You don't want to hurt the nice kitty."

"Nice kitty," Amelia agreed. She heeded Jean, petting Scout softly.

"That's a very good girl," said Jean.

Lucien had the turkey ready. "If you ladies will excuse me, I'll get this started," he said, before he carried it outside. Seeing her opportunity, Scout darted out the door after him.

"It's all right, sweetheart," Jean consoled the little girl. "You can play with her again later."

Geneviève smiled at Amelia tenderly. "She is such a dear child."

"I think so," said Jean. "She certainly took to Lucien immediately."

"Yes, he's very good with children. Oh, has he told you about our charity ball? You really should come, my dear."

"He's already asked me, and I agreed, of course. Please, I'd love to know more about it."

Geneviève began to explain that it was held in their home every year. They would usually have a featured guest to perform, this year the violinist Joshua Bell. Jean was impressed. She didn't know as much about classical music as she'd like to but she knew of Mister Bell.

"And, of course, it's all to benefit the Blake Family Trust's scholarship program, so we have some of the past recipients perform as well."

"It sounds wonderful," said Jean. "I'm looking forward to it."

She glanced down to look to Amelia, and suddenly realized she was no longer in the kitchen. Where had she wandered to? Jean excused herself to go looking for her, calling out, "Amelia, where are you, sweetheart?"

The door down to the music room was closed, so she couldn't have fallen down the stairs. Not seeing her anywhere on the ground floor, she hurried upstairs, but the rooms up there were empty as well.

Starting to be concerned, Jean came back down, still calling her name. Then she panicked. Had Amelia gotten outside, with the ocean virtually at the doorstep? She rushed to the back door, only to meet Lucien returning with Amelia in his arms.

"Look who decided to follow Scout outside," he said.

Jean took Amelia from him, hugging her tightly. "You scared me half to death," she whispered hoarsely.

"I do apologize," said Lucien. "I should have made sure the latch had caught securely. I'll take care of that now."

He fastened the door and tested that it was secure, then made a sign to affix to it, warning of dire consequences for anyone who left it ajar. "During the party," he explained.

Not long after that the guests began to arrive. Jean was a bit relieved that she knew most of them from the club, and Lucien made a point of introducing the others to her.

At one point he approached with a handsome, dark-haired young man that she recognized.

"Jean, this is..." Lucien began.

"Tony Capuano," said Jean in surprise. "My goodness. How's the family, Tony?"

"They're fine, Mrs. Beazley. Dad still asks about you every time I call him."

"You know each other," said Lucien.

"Yes, Tony used to be a neighbor of Christopher's. But how do you know each other?"

"I'll let Tony tell you while you two get reacquainted then," said Lucien, "and I'll check on the turkey. If you'll excuse me."

Tony explained, "My grandfather used to be the booking manager for SPAC, the Saratoga Performing Arts Center, in upstate New York."

"Yes, I've heard of it," said Jean. "Lucien performed there, I take it?"

"Several years in a row. Since my dad used to hang out there, he and Lucien met and got acquainted, so when I decided to move out here to Los Angeles, Dad suggested I look him up. He's been a big help in my career, since he seems to know everybody."

"What are you doing now? Still in that band you were in?" Jean asked.

"Not any more. I'm actually a talent manager now. I handle a number of acts."

"Really? Do you like that end of the business?"

"Better than performing, for me, at least." He paused. "I saw that review of your act in the paper. Do you have a manager, an agent?"

Jean frowned. "Why would I need an agent? I have a very generous contract with Lucien and his partners. I'm quite content there."

"But if you're as good as that review said, you might be able to land a recording contract, or even get a spot on a television show."

"Tony, I'm sure you're very good at what you do, but you have never even heard me sing," Jean pointed out.

"I spoke with Lucien about that. He suggested I come to his club tomorrow night to catch your act."

"He did, did he?" said Jean, glancing over at their host, who seemed to be avoiding her attempt to catch his eye.

"When I asked him about you, he absolutely raved about your voice and style. Believe me, Jean, that's a very good endorsement. He knows what he's talking about," Tony insisted.

Jean did not like being maneuvered, even by someone with good intentions. "Is that why you're here today?"

"What? No, of course not. Lucien is a good friend. He invites me every year, and this is the third one I've been at. After I read the review I asked him what he thought so he told me. That's all there was to it."

"All right," said Jean, relaxing somewhat. She still wanted to hear Lucien's side of the story, though. She knew how much he liked to help everyone, particularly her it would seem, but she had spent too many years making it on her own to let someone else make decisions for her.

She managed a smile for Tony. "Well, then, you should enjoy yourself instead of talking business. And please give your parents my regards."

"I'll do that," said Tony.

Jean had been keeping one eye on Amelia, who seemed to have become great friends with Mattie. She noticed that the bouncer from the club, Charlie Davis, had now joined the two of them, but Amelia seemed to be flagging. It must be naptime.

Lucien had set up the portacrib in the guest bedroom next to his upstairs, so Jean went to retrieve her sleepy granddaughter. Between the fresh ocean air and all the excitement, Amelia was exhausted and put up little fuss at leaving the party for a while. Jean swept her up and headed for the stairs, passing Lucien who was chatting with his mother and Cec Drury.

"I'm just going to put this one down for a nap," she explained as she walked by them.

"Oh, a nap sounds quite lovely," Geneviève sighed.

"Why not take one with her?" Lucien suggested.

Geneviève looked at the stairs doubtfully, obviously not certain she could navigate them.

"Would you like to?" he asked.

"Yes, but.."

Without another word, Lucien put one arm around her shoulders and the other behind her knees, lifting her as easily as Jean did Amelia. She managed a chuckle as she clasped her hands behind his neck to steady herself, and he started up the stairs.

He deposited her gently on the bed while Jean laid Amelia in her crib, then made sure the door out to the balcony was latched. "Christopher said she's just started getting out of bed by herself," she explained softly.

"Maman, you have your phone? Just text me when you're ready to come down, yes?" said Lucien.

"Yes, mon cher," she told him.

Jean left the room, and Lucien closed the door tightly behind them.

"Can I speak with you privately before we go downstairs?" she asked him.

His eyes widened in apprehension. "Yes, of course." He showed her into his room and closed that door as well. "Is something wrong?"

"Lucien, did you invite Tony and put him up to offering to take me on as a client?"

"Jean, I invite him every year. He wasn't sure he could come, but after reading the review yesterday, he called me to accept the invitation and he asked about you. I told him you'd be here, but that was after he'd already decided to come. Then he asked about hearing you sing. I told him he'd have to come to the club for that, and I agreed to comp him tickets, as I've done several times in the past. There was no nefarious plot involved."

"All right, thank you for explaining," said Jean. She kissed his cheek.

"Would it have been so bad if I had wanted to help you further your career?" he asked.

She wanted to explain it without hurting his feelings. "Ever since I lost my Christopher, I've had to make it on my own, earn a living and raise the boys. It was hard, nearly impossible at times, but I made it through. Now, when I've made it past the difficult years, I finally have the luxury of doing what I want to do for myself, and I'm not ready to let anyone make those decisions for me."

He took her hands in his. "As someone who had control taken out of my hands for many years, I completely understand. If you ever feel that I've stepped over the line, please, _please,_ just tell me, all right?"

"All right, thank you."

"The decisions are always yours to make. I may offer suggestions or advice, but you're always free to ignore them."

"That's all I ask," said Jean. She quickly changed the subject. It was a party, after all. "Now, we told your mother I'd sing for her. Did you have anything specific in mind?"

"I can set up an electric keyboard and play anything you'd like," he offered.

She hoped she hadn't dissuaded him from offering musical suggestions. She was sure he had a particular song in mind. "Maybe I can sing a couple by myself, then you can join me for one?"

He flashed her the smile she liked so much. "All right."

"I think I'll do 'Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out' and maybe something lighter, like 'Sunny Side of the Street'. Now you choose the duet."

"Do you know 'On My Own'?" he asked.

"The one Patti LaBelle and Michael McDonald sang? I love that song, but I'm no Patti LaBelle," Jean admitted.

"And I'm no Michael McDonald, so we should be fine. But it is a beautiful song."

"Yes, it is. All right, but I'm not sure I know all the words. You don't have sheet music for it, do you?"

"As it happens, I do."

"Then I guess we're all set," she said. "Thank you Lucien."

"For?"

"For being so understanding. For being you."

"My absolute pleasure."

The party was still going strong when they returned downstairs. Lucien had loaded the music system with a variety of records from different genres and ages, everything from Glenn Miller and Fats Waller to Adele and Beyonce. Every time a dance tune dropped, space seemed to open up for anyone that wanted to dance. Jean was a popular partner, since she could handle almost any style, but for the slower ones an agreement seemed to exist that those were reserved for Lucien.

"Did you arrange it like this ahead of time?" she asked him as 'I'll Be Seeing You' wafted through the speakers.

"I swear I did not," said Lucien, "although I might have if I'd thought of it. No, we just seem to have perceptive and considerate friends."

"You didn't threaten to send them away without dinner?"

"No, but I may bear that in mind for next time," he grinned.

"All right, I believe you. This is very nice, though."

"Yes, it is. Almost as nice as being alone with you to do this would be."

Just as the song ended, his phone alerted him to a text. He glanced down to read it. "My mother says she and Amelia are both awake and ready for dinner," he told Jean.

The buffet had already been set up, only requiring the hot dishes to be set out and the turkeys to be carved. "If you can manage them both, I can start putting out the rest of the food," Jean offered.

"Perfect. I'll be back down to help in just a minute."

He bounded up the stairs, and returned with Amelia in one arm while his mother leaned heavily on the other as they descended.

Dinner was a lively affair, with people spread out across most of the ground floor, as well as on the porch and around the fire pit. Jean made it a point to sit next to Cec Drury, after what Lucien had said about him being an expert on blues history. He told her stories about everyone from Jelly Roll Morton to Norah Jones. Almost anyone she could name, he could tell her about the recordings they'd made.

As she ate and listened to Cec's remarkable stories, she kept an eye on Amelia, who was having the time of her life seated between Lucien and Mattie. Mattie was doing airplane and train noises as she brought the spoon of food to Amelia's mouth, while Lucien opted for funny faces to keep her entertained between spoonfuls. Her peals of laughter had everyone smiling, especially Geneviève, who sat on Lucien's other side.

"He's very good with children," Cec noted. "Such a shame that he was separated from his daughter."

"You've known him a long time," said Jean.

"Since he was a boy. I used to work for his father as a talent scout," Cec explained. "Later, when Lucien began to tour as a teenager, I was assigned to be his handler - I made sure he showed up at the venues on time and stayed out of trouble between concerts."

"And was that difficult, keeping him out of trouble?"

Cec shook his head. "Not until the very end, after his brother went overseas. You know about his brother?"

"Yes, he told me about Tommy," said Jean. "Such a tragedy."

"Yes, it was. I was backstage with Lucien when he got the news that Tommy had been killed. It wasn't really my place to interfere, but I begged Thomas not to send the poor boy back out onstage. When he insisted anyway, I told him I couldn't work for him any longer and walked away."

"And now you're working for Lucien."

"He never loses touch with those who have been kind to him.," said Cec. "Even when he was having so many difficulties after his discharge from the Army, he would call me regularly to make certain I was well. And when the club opened and he asked if I wanted employment there, naturally I said yes. Others here can tell you similar stories about him."

Jean glanced over to where he was still keeping Amanda amused. "Yes, he really is something," she agreed.

"And if you don't mind my saying, you've been very good for him. He seems much more content, at peace, since he's met you. It's a pleasure to see."

"Thank you, Cec. That's a lovely thing to say."

He bowed his head to her.

People began to put down their utensils, thank Lucien for dinner, and take their empty plates to the kitchen. When he made a move to start cleaning up, Charlie Davis stopped him. "We've got this, boss. The least we can do," he said, as others nodded in agreement.

"All right, if you insist," Lucien conceded. "Jean and I can prepare the entertainment, then."

Mattie volunteered to take charge of Amelia while Lucien and Jean went down to the music room. He located the sheet music for Jean, then they did a quick run-through of the selected songs to agree on tempo.

By the time Lucien had set up his keyboard on the ocean-facing porch, the kitchen was back in order and spotless. A few deck chairs were set up, for Geneviève, Cec and Mattie (with Amelia on her lap), while everyone else settled into the sand for the impromptu concert.

Jean turned to Lucien to see if he was ready. He nodded his head toward Tony, reminding her that these few songs might just make a big difference in her career trajectory. Then he played a short intro and she launched into 'Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out'. As usual, Lucien's playing only served to support her singing rather than call attention to his own prowess. Even in this informal setting, she could appreciate just how good he was at that.

Geneviève, whom Jean had figured as more of a classical music fan, seemed to enjoy the song a great deal. Definitely not a music snob, then, or maybe just happy to watch her son doing something he obviously loved doing.

As the applause of the small group just began to fade, she launched into 'Sunny Side of the Street'. She put more animation into it, going so far as to wander among their friends as they watched and listened. There was laughter when she stood over Amelia, who promptly held out her arms to be picked up. Jean obliged, singing the rest of the song directly to her. When she finished, she gave Amelia a kiss on the cheek and handed her back to Mattie.

Out of the corner of her eye, Jean had been watching Tony as she sang, trying to gauge his impression, but he just seemed to be taking it all in.

She went back up onto the porch with Lucien to sing their duet, since she wanted to be able to refer to the sheet music if she needed help with the lyrics.

"So many times, you said it was forever," she began the song. "Said our love would always be true. Something in my heart always knew, I'd be lying here beside you, on my own."

She knew she couldn't match the power of Patti LaBelle's voice so she concentrated on conveying the raw emotion of the song, the feeling of losing a love that you were once sure would last a lifetime.

Lucien matched her in that regard, pouring his very soul into the song. As she listened to him sing his part, she reflected that, like her, he probably knew the emotion of the song only too well.

When they sang the final refrain of "on my own", those listening to them were completely silent for a moment before applauding. Jean noticed that Geneviève had tears in her eyes. Charlie called out, "Wow, that needs to go in the act. Just like that, boss."

Jean glanced again at Tony, who sat quietly in the sand just looking at her and Lucien for several minutes before he stood up and approached them.

"Can we talk?" he asked.

"I'll just leave you to it," said Lucien, "or you can use my office."

"Actually I need to talk to you too," said Tony, "but, yes, some privacy would be good."

Mattie was close enough to overhear. "Go," she told Jean. "I'll see to Amelia."

Jean whispered her thanks, then walked inside with the two men, wondering if she was about to decide her future.


	15. Chapter 15

Lucien ushered Jean and Tony Capuano into his office and closed the door. They all sat down, with Jean and Lucien looking at Tony expectantly.

"Jean, let me start by saying you have a fantastic voice. You have a natural stage presence, too."

She waited for the 'but' that had to be coming.

"I could probably book you right now as an opening act for someone, if what you're looking for is being on the road for eight months of the year," Tony continued.

Her heart fell. "No, I don't think that's what I want," she admitted.

"You have something else in mind, Tony," said Lucien.

"I do," said Tony. "Let's face it, talent and presence alone won't make you stand out in the music business. Plenty of people have those things. Just watch any of the singing contests on television. No, you need something more to distinguish you from everyone else."

"Such as?" Jean asked. If he was going to suggest plastic surgery this would be a very short conversation.

"That last song you did? 'On My Own'? That made you stand out. The chemistry the two of you showed, that's something I can definitely sell," Tony said, leaning forward. "There's a spark there that jumps right off the stage and grabs people."

Lucien's eyes narrowed. "You want a double act? I thought that was pretty much extinct."

"In a way, but look at the number of times people have teamed up recently to make a record. Duets are big business. Why not cut to the chase and start with a duo?"

Jean looked at Lucien. She certainly had no objection; she loved working with him. And if she was going to take a leap of faith to a whole new career level, having him at her side would make it a bit less frightening. But what did he want? He'd been to those heights before so he had some idea of what he was getting into.

He looked back at her. "Jean, you should have the career you envisioned for yourself," he said earnestly. "What are your thoughts?"

"I never really considered the idea of being anything but a solo performer," Jean admitted, "but I can see advantages to what he's proposing. Aside from what Tony's mentioned, the idea of having a partner to share the road with, and the stage too, that's rather appealing to me. But you know much more than I do about life on the road. What do you think?"

She watched him closely as he thought about the proposal. Clearly he had some reservations.

Finally he said, "Tony, I think Jean and I need to discuss this between ourselves. Can we get back to you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow, the next day, take all week if you need to. Nothing much gets done until after the New Year anyway," said Tony. He handed a business card to Jean. "In case you have any questions. I'd love to work with the two of you, but it will be work, hard work, so I need you both to be fully committed to this if we're going to go after it."

He stood up and shook both of their hands. "I'm going to head out now. Thanks for having me. I'll talk to you soon, then."

When they were alone, Jean reached out a hand, and Lucien clasped it. "Please, tell me what you're thinking," she urged him.

"I don't want to hold you back," he said, pain in his eyes. "You've seen what can happen to me. Suppose it happened on the road and I couldn't perform. Or worse, what if it happened while we were onstage?"

She hadn't considered that. How could she ask him to expose himself like that? "I don't suppose we could just do records and maybe television appearances where we weren't on live?"

He shook his head. "You wouldn't make enough to live on. No matter how good a deal Tony secured with a record label, there's very little money in that, especially now that it's all streaming. No, the money in the music industry these days comes from live concerts. If we went that route you'd have to keep singing at the club just to get by."

She thought about that, having a recording contract and keeping her current gig. She could certainly live with that, but it wouldn't give her the career she'd always envisioned for herself.

"Jean, you're such a wonderful singer, you deserve to have your dreams come true," he said sincerely, as though he were reading her mind. "I'd never forgive myself if I kept you from that."

"But Tony said..." she began until he cut her off.

"Forget what Tony said," he insisted. "There are plenty of agents who'd be glad to handle your solo career. I'll bet more than one of them will show up at the club to hear you this week, after that review in the newspaper. Or you can go back to Tony and give him the option to handle you as a solo act. It's your choice."

"And what about you? You talked about what you want for me, but what do you want for yourself, Lucien? You've carved out a safe, comfortable life here, but don't you ever want more? Don't you ever miss having a big crowd stand and applaud you because you've made them forget all their problems for a few hours? Made their life brighter for a little while?"

He hung his head, as if in defeat, before meeting her eyes. "Of course I want that. There's no feeling quite like it," he admitted. "But merely wanting it isn't enough to offset the challenges."

Jean remembered the conversation she'd overheard between Lucien and Matthew when she was taking them her shortbread. Matthew had said Alice was sure she could help him if he ever wanted to perform classical music again. Surely whatever Alice had in mind would work just as well if he wanted to share the stage with her.

"Is there nothing Alice can do to help?" she asked, not wanting to admit she'd eavesdropped.

He was silent for a long moment, making Jean wonder just what it was that Alice had proposed.

"Yes, there is something," he said at last, his voice low. "It's called trauma-focused psychotherapy. It involves reliving the events that caused the problems, not once but several times over a number of sessions. In all honesty, I'm not sure I can get through that," he confessed.

She squeezed his hands. "It's entirely your decision, Lucien. I would never try to coerce you into something that important. Playing devil's advocate though, you trust Alice, don't you? Would she even suggest it if she didn't think you could handle it?"

Again he looked away, thinking hard. "I'll think about it again, discuss it with Alice. That's all I can promise, Jean. I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize. I can see how much strength it takes for you even to consider it, and I'm grateful, no matter what you decide. Now, enough of this for today. It's Christmas. I need to get back to my granddaughter, and you, when you're ready, should get back to your guests."

She stood and kissed him on the cheek. "Take your time," she whispered. "They'll wait."

For the rest of the evening, as she played with Amelia, talked with Geneviève and Mattie, or listened to the music that still came from the sound system, Jean kept one eye on Lucien. He seemed genial, perhaps overly so, but still there was a darkness behind his eyes. She noticed that Geneviève was also watching him closely, and from time to time the two women who both loved him exchanged a look of concern.

One by one the guests departed, until only Mattie remained. After kissing Amelia, who was asleep in Jeans arms, she told Jean not to hesitate to call her if there was anything she could do to make the move easier. Then she hugged Lucien and kissed him on both cheeks. "This was so much more interesting than dinner with my parents would have been," she told him. "Thank you, Lucien. And it was lovely to see you again, Mrs. Blake. I'll see you at the gala. Good night, all."

Lucien stepped outside to watch her safely through her door. When he returned, he said, "Now then Maman, you're perfectly welcome to stay the night, if you'd like."

"Merci, mon cher, but I should go home, if it isn't too much trouble."

"Absolutely no trouble at all," he insisted. "We need to get Jean and Amelia back, and it's on the way."

Together they packed everything up, including a good amount of leftover food, and set out. At the Blake mansion, Lucien helped his mother up the front stairs. She hugged him tightly and kissed him before she disappeared inside. When Lucien got back into the car, Jean could see he was emotional. She wanted to tell him Geneviève loved his father, and no matter how difficult that was to accept, he really had no choice in the matter. But she held her tongue. It was never a good idea to interfere in another family's dynamics even though this was causing him pain.

He was quiet for a while as they drove back up Sunset Boulevard. Jean began to hum 'Trouble in Mind', knowing he'd pick up on it. Sure enough, he began to sing and she quickly joined him. In no time he was once again smiling at her.

When they reached her building, Jean carried the still sleeping Amelia in her car seat while Lucien gathered up much of the rest to bring inside - Amelia's bag of clothing and toys, the leftover food, and the crib.

When they had put everything away, Lucien moved toward the door, and Jean moved with him. "Thank you. The last two days have been wonderful," she said.

"Yes, except for that period when I..."

She put a finger over his lips. "Well, that wasn't exactly wonderful, but it was something I needed to know about you."

"And you didn't walk away because of it."

Arching an eyebrow, she said, "I'm hardly baggage-free myself." She jerked a thumb toward Amelia, asleep on the couch.

He smiled. "She's not baggage, she's treasure," he insisted.

"When you say things like that how could I even think about walking away," said Jean, and the two of them kissed, long and deep. "Kissing like that doesn't hurt your case either," she whispered, smoothing a hand along his jawline.

"I'll bear that in mind," he murmured. "Oh, before I forget, I got you a little something for Christmas."

As he reached into his pocket, Jean was hopeful and fearful in equal measures that it might be jewelry. Despite how quickly they'd grown close, it was too early for anything so personal. She needn't have feared. He handed her an envelope.

Keeping her eyes trained on his, she slowly opened it, then began to read the paper inside. "Lucien! Four hours in a recording studio? This is incredible. Thank you."

"I got this for you before Tony made his offer, of course, but you still should make a professional demo," he explained. "Working with a producer and a professional engineer, as well as studio musicians, will help you develop a distinct sound of your own. It will also be good practice for when you sign a recording contract."

"I'm afraid what I got for you pales next to this," said Jean as she walked over to her tiny tabletop tree and reached beneath.

"You've already given me the best gift possible," he assured her. "You saw me at my worst and didn't run out."

Again she arched the eyebrow as she handed him the present. "I don't think you have this," she said. "At least I didn't see it when I checked in your music room."

He opened it and stared like he couldn't quite believe it. "The Complete Recordings of Ma Rainey. And brand new, unopened. Jean, this is wonderful. Thank you." He turned it over to read the cover notes, and Jean could see his eyes shining. No darkness there now.

"Thank you," he said. "Not even Cec could find this one for me."

"You're welcome. I caught it just as it went up on EBay. Luck, really."

He kissed her cheek. "Yes, luck. My luck that you walked into my life."

She couldn't help the way she stared longingly at him until he pulled her fully into his arms. She clutched at his biceps as she stood on her toes and kissed him with everything she had. In that moment she knew that if Amelia hadn't been sleeping a few feet away, she would have made love with him. As it was, the kiss was the most erotic moment they'd shared so far. Knowing they couldn't go any farther, though, she pulled away reluctantly.

"I'm sorry, not with her here," she whispered.

"Yes, I know," he said, with just as much regret in his voice. "Another time, perhaps, when it's just right."

He rested his broad hands along the sides of her head and kissed her forehead. "Good night, Jean. I'll see you at the club tomorrow."

"Good night. Drive safely," she said.

She closed the door behind him and sighed. It had been some Christmas.


	16. Chapter 16

With Amelia to keep her company, Jean spent much of the next day playing with the little girl, taking her for a long walk, and making cookies. While Amelia napped, Jean began to do more packing. Perhaps she would have time to run a load of her belongings over to the new place the following day.

She got to the club a little later than she usually did, although still well before her first set would start. She had cleared it with Matthew to set up the crib for Amelia in her dressing room, and Alice had offered to sit in there while Jean was onstage. Little Lucy's bassinet would fit there as well.

After setting up the crib, Jean took Amelia's hand and went to see if Lucien had arrived yet. She found Matthew sitting at one of the tables with a number of sheets of paper spread out before him, rather than upstairs in his office. Baby Lucy's carrier was on the chair beside him.

He nodded to the two of them and jerked his thumb toward the stairs. "Alice and the major are talking," he explained. He didn't mention what they were talking about, of course, but Jean had to think they were discussing the possible psychotherapy for his PTSD.

"Do you mind if Amelia has a look at your daughter?" she asked.

He glanced down at the carrier. "Be my guest. Looks like she's just waking up."

Jean smiled down at the infant whose little fists were waving and legs beginning to kick. "Amelia, come see the baby," she said, lifting the toddler so she could look down into the carrier.

"Dolly?" she asked Jean as she peered at Lucy.

"No, sweetheart. Baby." She explained to Matthew, "She has a lifelike doll that's just about the same size."

She allowed Amelia to reach down and feel Lucy's tiny foot.

"Ooh. Baby," said Amelia, understanding now.

"Yes, her name is Lucy," Jean told her.

"Loo-sen?" asked Amelia, scrunching her nose in confusion.

"No, not Lucien. Lucy."

Amelia pointed at the stairs where Lucien and Alice were just coming down. "Loo-sen," she repeated.

He wore a big smile. "Look at this, all my favorite girls in one place." He took Amelia and held her up in the air high above his head, making her giggle happily.

When he lowered her, she patted his cheek to keep his attention. "Kitty?"

Matthew laughed. "It's not you she's after, it's your cat."

"Very funny," said Lucien. "I'm sorry, Amelia. I don't bring Scout here. She doesn't like to ride in cars. You'll have to come back to my house to see her."

"Actually, I was thinking of taking a load of my things over to the new place tomorrow," said Jean.

"Is that right? As it happens, I have the Range Rover here tonight while the Mustang is being maintenanced," said Lucien. "If you like, you can take it home and use it to move a larger load. I can drive your car home and we'll switch back tomorrow. And Amelia can see the kitty."

"That would work perfectly for me. Thank you."

"You're entirely welcome." He set Amelia back on the floor. "Now, what about your performance tonight? Any thoughts?"

"Yes, actually," said Jean. "I was thinking to do the Christmas show one last time for the first set, and then back to the regular set later, with just one change."

He read her mind. "You want to add 'On My Own', as the last song?"

"Second to last," she said. "Everything else stays the same."

"The key and tempo we used yesterday?"

"Exactly," said Jean.

He nodded his approval, then clapped his hands together. "Hey, kids, let's put on a show."

He lifted Amelia once again and set her on his shoulders, where she commenced to pat his head and run her fingers through his hair, laughing all the while. Jean thought Amelia had the right idea - she'd like to be running her own fingers through his hair.

Carrying Amelia back to Jean's dressing room, he said quietly, "Alice has agreed to put together a prospectus for my treatment. Once we agree on it, we'll begin."

"Lucien, that's wonderful," she said.

"I hope so. The success rate apparently is something like fifty-three percent with this type of psychotherapy, but the process is individualized, so I'm hoping the fact that she knows me so well will increase the odds it's successful. Anyway, the sessions will be weekly for up to three months, and she's suggested that I plan on not being available to work on the day of the sessions and the day after. I wanted you to know that."

"Of course. This is important. I'm sure I can manage."

"I know you can," he told her.

"You just concentrate on getting past this, right?" She kissed his cheek, making Amelia giggle.

"Right," he said, smiling in return.

* * *

With Amelia and baby Lucy both sleeping under Alice's watchful eye, Jean made her way to the stage area. She waited in the wings for Lucien to finish warming up the crowd. He was playing the Steve Winwood song 'Back in the High Life Again', an indication of his plans for the future perhaps? He spotted her waiting to come on, and he gave her a wink. The song seemed like a promise that he would overcome his issues and return to the level of prominence he'd once enjoyed, but this time with her at his side.

In response, she blew him a kiss, then she looked out at the crowd. The club was absolutely packed to the rafters. Obviously the review in _The Times _had brought in a lot of business. The size of the audience gave her a touch of stage jitters, but she was determined to use it to her advantage. She let their energy boost her own. When Lucien introduced her, she strode out onto the stage swaying her hips with her best movie star walk, flashed a brilliant smile, and launched into her first song.

She had them eating out of her hand all evening, and when she and Lucien finished 'On My Own' many of them leapt to their feet in raucous applause. She insisted that Lucien stand with her, hand in hand, to acknowledge the ovation.

For her final song, she performed a lively version of 'My Baby Just Cares for Me' and once again she brought Lucien into it when she ran her hands over his shoulders and clasped her arms around his neck from behind as he played. Of course he went along, shaking his head at all the things he didn't 'care for' and nodding whenever she sang that he just cared for her. They really did make a great team, she thought as she bowed to the applause. Touring the country didn't seem quite so daunting if he was with her.

They performed a couple of encores before leaving the stage for good. When they were out of sight of the audience, Lucien swept her up into a big hug as they both laughed, still high from the reception they'd gotten.

She kissed his cheek. "That was amazing!"

Before he could respond, though, Matthew interrupted them. "Yes, it was," he told them. "Now, Jean, there are three different agents outside who'd like to speak with you. You can use the office if you'd like."

She turned to Lucien. "Would you mind sitting in? I really don't know what to ask them."

"If you'd like," said Lucien.

"I'll just wait in your dressing room with Alice," said Matthew. "Take all the time you need."

As they started up the stairs, Jean said,"Maybe I should just hire you as my agent."

"That's very flattering, but I don't know enough about the business side of things. And I don't have the connections required."

"Or the ruthlessness?" Jean suggested.

He only smiled.

The first one wanted to redo her image, make her look much younger. When he suggested breast augmentation surgery, Jean shook her head violently and Lucien showed him to the door rather insistently.

The second one's big pitch was that he could guarantee her a place on _American Idol_. When Jean pointed out that the typical demographic for that show was hardly the type of people who would appreciate the kind of music she sang, the agent insisted he could change that. Jean glanced at Lucien, whose eyebrows were practically disappearing into his hairline with disbelief. She left the man with a 'don't call us, we'll call you' message.

The last one was more professional and polished than the others. She could tell that Lucien recognized the man's name. His vision of her career was somewhat along the lines of what Tony had suggested were she to remain a solo performer - opening for other acts just on the edge of reaching stardom, at least initially. It would mean spending most of the year on tour buses going from city to city. Jean accepted his business card, thanked him for the opportunity, and promised to get back to him in a few days.

When he had gone, she turned to Lucien for his opinion. "What do you think?"

"The first two had absolutely no idea what to do with you," he said, "but Doug Ashby knows the business inside and out. If you decide on a solo career, he's definitely the one you want."

"What about Tony?"

"Tony would tell you you'd be crazy not to go with Ashby. He's a heavy hitter. Believe me, Tony will understand if you go in that direction."

"All right. So now the question is, what about you, Lucien? If you go through the psychotherapy with Alice and it's successful, would you be willing to try for another shot at stardom? With me?"

He stepped forward and rested a hand on her cheek. "That's the only way I'd even want stardom again: with you."

He kissed her, softly at first, but then more deeply. She felt like she could melt into a puddle around his feet.

When he finally stepped away, she reached up with the pad of her thumb to wipe a trace of lipstick from his lower lip. He kissed her thumb as she finished, then opened the door to let her out.

She was startled to see Cec standing there, about to knock. "Mrs. Beazley, there's a young man downstairs waiting to see you," Cec told her. "He said he's your son."

Jean was puzzled. Surely Christopher would have phoned her if they were coming back early.

"He said his name is Jack Beazley."

"Jack?" she gasped, before hurrying downstairs to see him, her wayward younger boy.

He stood at the foot of the staircase, watching her with that crooked half-smile of his. When she threw her arms around him, he returned the embrace, albeit a touch less enthusiastically.

Pulling back, she held him at arm's length to see him better. "You look good," she told him.

"And you look like a star," he returned. "Dad would have been so proud."

"You saw the review in the newspaper?"

He nodded. "A friend showed it to me. Chris had mentioned you were singing again after all these years."

"What did you think? Of the act, I mean. You saw it, didn't you?"

"The review was right, you're very good, Mum."

She saw him glance up the stairs behind her and figured he'd spotted Lucien.

"That guy, your piano player," said Jack. "What's with him?"

"He's become a good friend," said Jean. "He's helped me a great deal."

"I'll bet he has," Jack muttered under his breath, but Jean heard it.

She frowned at him, and Jack quickly changed course, plastering on his most charming smile. Jean hated herself for it, but she was immediately suspicious of his motives.

"How have you been?" she asked him. "What have you been up to?"

"I'm good. Been working with a friend of mine, started his own business."

"What kind of business is that?" She was careful to keep her skepticism out of her tone.

"He's developing a line of solar-powered electric scooters," said Jack.

"Like those green ones I see everywhere?"

"Yes, like those, but with solar batteries so they don't have to be returned to a station for recharging."

"That sounds like a good opportunity, if he can follow through with it," said Jean. "What do you do for him?"

"I started out just being a glorified go-fer, but now that he's getting close to bringing it to market, I work on the sales side of things," Jack explained.

"Really? That's good to hear. You always were a good salesman."

"The thing is, he needs more capital to launch the company. He says if I can come up with ten thousand dollars, he'll give me a forty percent share of the business."

"Do you have that kind of money?" Jean asked him. From what Christopher told her, Jack had been drifting from one dead-end job to another ever since he'd left school.

"Uh, no, not really. I was wondering if maybe you..."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Jack. Until I got this job I didn't even know how I was going to pay my next month's rent. "And most of what I've made went as a security deposit on a new place." She spread her hands. "I just don't have it."

"Would you loan it to me if you had it?" he asked, a hint of accusation in his voice.

"I don't know," she admitted. "The last time I gave you money, for an apartment, you spent it on a scheme that turned out to be totally worthless."

"That was two years ago," he said loudly. "I've matured a lot since then."

At the raised voice, Lucien stepped in. "Is everything all right here, Jean?" he asked softly.

"Yes, it's fine," Jean assured him. "Lucien Blake, my son Jack Beazley."

"Is that right? An absolute pleasure, Jack," said Lucien, extending a hand.

Jack shook it, but Jean watched as he looked Lucien over. She could see her son notice the expensive shoes, well-tailored suit and gold watch. "Nice to meet you, sir," he said, making Jean wary. "We were just discussing a business opportunity I've been offered."

"I see," said Lucien, glancing at Jean, who shifted awkwardly.

"Unfortunately, I don't have the capital I need to invest in it, and my mother can't help me out."

"Knowing your mother as I do, I'm certain she would help if she could, but maybe I might be able to do something. Would you like to tell me about it?"

Jack's eyes gleamed as he repeated his company pitch to Lucien, who heard him out.

"That's a very interesting concept," Lucien told him. "Maybe we could set up a meeting, you, me, your inventor friend, and my friend who handles my investments. If everything is in order, I think we can come to an agreement." He handed Jack a card. "Why don't you give me a call tomorrow?"

"I'll do that. Thank you," said Jack.

"Now I'll leave you and your mother to catch up."

As Jean watched him walk away, she hoped she hadn't gotten Lucien involved in yet another of Jack's questionable schemes.


	17. Chapter 17

Jean invited her son back to her dressing room so that he could see his niece Amelia.

"She's getting big," Jack said softly.

"Yes, she is. You should stay in better touch," said Jean. "You wouldn't want her to grow up not knowing her only uncle."

"If this business takes off like I think it will, I'll be around a lot more," Jack assured her.

"This business. It's for real?"

"Absolutely," said Jack. "I know some of the things I've done in the past were... not quite what they should have been, but this is different. This could be legitimately a big thing. My partner knows what he's doing. Pete is a genius."

"I hope so," Jean told him. "Lucien is not only my friend, he's my boss, too." She wanted him to understand that it would be a big deal to her if he pulled a fast one on Lucien.

"Well, then, it'll look good for you if this deal makes him a lot of money, won't it?"

"Jack," she warned.

"All right, I get it. You don't have any faith in me. Maybe I've done some things to make you feel that way. I hope this will change your mind."

She looked at him in dismay because she knew he was being truthful about her lack of faith. "I hope so, too," she said softly.

* * *

Jean arrived at the new apartment with Amelia and a carload of items from clothes to books to cookware. Lucien came out to meet her, along with another gentleman that he introduced as his financial advisor, Patrick Tyneman. From what Lucien had told her, Patrick was only a year or two older, but with his white hair and florid complexion he could easily have been a decade older than Lucien.

He was polite and well-mannered, but Jean could tell he was studying her as they chatted. She thought perhaps Lucien had already told him about Jack and his proposal. She would need to fill them both in on some of Jack's history, but that could wait until she had emptied the car.

"Let me help you with this," Lucien quickly offered, and with Mister Tyneman assisting as well, the Range Rover was empty in no time.

"There, now, we'll leave you to put things away," said Lucien. "Would you like me to keep Miss Amelia occupied? I have a freshly made pot of coffee, if you want to join us afterward."

"That would be lovely," said Jean. She loved Amelia dearly, but the girl's boundless curiosity had made packing take twice as long as it would have otherwise. And the coffee would give her an opportunity to bring up Jack.

He took Amelia's hand. "Shall we go find the kitty?" he suggested, and like a shot Amelia was headed toward the door.

Jean saw Patrick roll his eyes. The man probably wanted to talk business, and knowing Lucien he would be looking for distractions instead. "Sorry," she told him softly.

"Not at all, Mrs. Beazley. If it wasn't your granddaughter sidetracking him it would be something else, you can be sure," he sighed.

Jean decided she liked the man. He certainly seemed straightforward.

When she made it over to Lucien's house, she peered through the screen door to see Amelia sitting on the floor and feeding Scout something out of her hand.

"Ah, Jean, come in, my dear," Lucien said when he spotted her. "As you can see, Amelia and Scout are doing just fine together as long as Amelia remembers that the treats are for feeding to the cat, not for eating herself."

Jean laughed. "Jack had the same problem with the dog we used to have on our farm."

She sat down in front of the cup of coffee he had just poured for her. "And speaking of my son, I should tell you a little about him."

"Oh?" said Patrick. "Such as?"

"Such as, he's been involved in a number of ventures before that haven't turned out very well," she admitted.

"That's not unusual for a young man finding his way in the world of business," said Patrick.

"I suppose not. It's just that some of them were, shall we say skating along the very edge of legality."

"Are you saying he's a con man?" Lucien asked.

"Not exactly. He's a very eager salesman, though."

"That can be a good thing if he's selling the right product. Has he been in any trouble with the law? Arrested?"

"As a boy, he was arrested for truancy. He was always terribly bored in school, so when he was fourteen he decided to stop going. He'd get on the school bus each morning, but when he got off he'd head somewhere else."

Patrick glanced at Lucien for permission then focused on Jean. "Mrs. Beazley, if I may say, it's very decent of you to come forward like this, but let me assure you that I've had plenty of experience dealing with charlatans and hucksters of all kinds. One look at their books will tell me whether this is on the up-and-up."

"I hope so," said Jean, not entirely convinced. "I'd feel absolutely terrible if I caused Lucien to lose all that money."

"The amount of the investment, while not insignificant, is not my chief concern. If what Blake tells me about this enterprise proves to be true, these young men could have a fine business opportunity on their hands. We could provide the kind of guidance they need to make it a big success."

"And if it isn't true?" Jean persisted.

Lucien reached out to take her hands in his. "Jean, everyone deserves another chance. This is a small price to pay for a young man's shot at redemption. Even if Jack wasn't your son, I'd be willing to do this for him."

"Thank you, Lucien. I hope you won't regret your generosity."

He looked over at Amelia. "Well, I'm beginning to regret handing that packet of cat treats to your granddaughter," he said as he saw her chewing. He took the foil package away from her gently. "If she eats any more of those she's going to start purring and clawing the furniture."

* * *

Jean was nervous, for herself and for Lucien. It was the day of his first PTSD treatment with Alice, which meant she worried about what he would be going through. He trusted Alice completely, and Jean did as well, but the thought of him reliving that kind of severe physical and psychological torture made her heart ache for him.

As if that weren't stressful enough, she also had to face the prospect of performing at the club without him for the first time. She knew Lucien had put in extra work with the band and Terry Reynolds, their pianist, and she suspected there might even have been threats made, but it wouldn't be the same as having Lucien himself onstage with her.

As she busied herself by doing more packing to take her mind off it, she was surprised to get a call from Jack, especially since it wasn't even noon yet. Jack had never been a morning person. She hoped that didn't mean he was in some kind of trouble.

"I wanted to share my good news," he declared, sounding as excited as she'd heard him in years. "After all, I have you to thank for introducing me to Blake."

"What's going on?" she asked.

"We had our meeting with him and his money man yesterday. Not only are they going to provide the funds we need to finish development, they're coming in as partners. Pete and I were thinking of just selling the patent once we had the prototype working, but Tyneman convinced us we'd be better off manufacturing the motors and maybe even the whole scooters. So rather than a one-time payout, it could be a steady long term business."

"Would you have any idea how to go about that? Running a manufacturing business?"

"He'll provide a lot of the expertise to get us started and help us find space for a factory and offices. I'm going to take some online courses from UCLA in finance and business management. In fact, I enrolled this morning. Mom, this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance for me to really make something of myself!"

She'd never heard her son like this. Maybe Lucien was right, he just needed a shot at redemption. "It sounds like a wonderful opportunity," she told Jack. "I'm very happy for you."

"Thanks. I won't let you down this time. I'm going to make you proud of me."

"Make yourself proud," she told him. "Be the man I've always known you could be."

After ending the call with Jack, she sent off a text message to Lucien: 'Sending my love and all good wishes to you today'.

Almost immediately she received a reply: 'Thank you for the good wishes and especially the love. Break a leg tonight.'

She smiled. Of course he would be concerned for her, despite the ordeal he was facing. She was determined to show him that he needn't worry about her.

As she waited to take the stage that evening, she reminded herself of that. If nothing else, these shows she performed by herself would tell her what it was like to be truly a solo act, and whether she wanted to consider Doug Ashby's offer to launch her career on her own.

For some reason, Matthew didn't allow Terry Reynolds to introduce her, he did it himself. She blew him a kiss as she walked onstage and promptly launched into her first song, 'Come Rain or Come Shine.'

Immediately she could tell that Terry, while an excellent pianist in his own right, was not used to backing up a singer. This was the blues, a form or jazz, so a level of improvisation was a key element. Where Lucien had no problem keeping up and even anticipating where she might go, Reynolds seemed to be a step behind. When he reached the solo section, though, instead of playing a line to enhance the melody, he took off on a flamboyant voyage of his own with very little connection to the rest of the song. She noted that the applause as he finished the section was definitely lukewarm.

The rest of the night was much the same, with Terry seeming to battle Jean for the attention of the audience. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that Cec seemed to be capturing it all on his phone. She could only hope this debacle wouldn't end up online. Certainly it was far from her best performance.

For the first time since she'd begun working at the club, she left the stage feeling that she hadn't given the audience what they'd come to see. She'd always known that a good accompanist could lift up a singer to new heights, but after what had just happened she had to wonder just how much of her success she owed to Lucien making her seem better than she actually was.

She didn't sleep much that night, between concern for how Lucien was faring and her own self-doubt. She wished she could call Lucien to discuss the issues she was having with Terry, but knowing that he was going through much more serious issues of his own, she was determined not to bother him. She needed to work it out for herself.

All day she thought it over. The only way she could see to neutralize Terry's theatrics was to eliminate his solo in each song by singing right through it. That seemed just a bit childish to her, but no more so than his grab for the spotlight. She decided she would do it for the first two songs, then on the third she would see if he restrained himself. If not, she would cut him out on the remaining songs as well.

When she reached the club that evening Alice was there holding baby Lucy to her shoulder.

"Is Lucien all right?" Jean asked the doctor.

"It was... difficult, as we both expected," said Alice. "But it was a solid step in the right direction."

"Is he alone at home now?"

Alice shook her head. "Mattie O'Brien spent the night and all day with him."

"Good," said Jean. From what she'd seen, Mattie was very level-headed and competent, and just as important, she was very fond of Lucien. "I know he prides himself on being self-sufficient, but I don't like to think of him sitting in the darkness all alone and brooding."

"Exactly why I insisted he not be alone," said Alice. "I spoke with Mattie about an hour ago, and he's a bit subdued but not morose."

"He's so brave to do this," Jean noted.

"Yes, he is. I've been after him for years to attempt it, but he said he was satisfied with his life as it was. Jean, I'm convinced that you've made him realize he could have so much more. That's why he's finally taken this step."

Jean wasn't sure how she felt about that. It was a heavy responsibility, especially considering the success of the treatment was far from guaranteed. If Lucien went through all of this without a favorable result, how would he feel about her? How would she feel about herself?

"Please, please, get him through this safely and successfully," she begged Alice.

Alice touched Jean on the forearm. "You know Lucien is much more to me than just a patient," she said. "I will use every bit of knowledge and experience I have to help him succeed, you have my word."

"Yes, I don't doubt that," said Jean. "I just really want this for him. He gives so much of himself to everyone else, that he deserves to find some peace."

"And we'll do our best to give it to him," Alice assured her. "Now you should go out on stage tonight and have a great show. Make him proud."

Jean resolved to do just that, in spite of Terry Reynolds.

She went through 'Come Rain or Come Shine' without giving him a chance to grab the spotlight. In fact he spent most of the song just trying to keep up with her. When she started the second song, 'Rum and Coca Cola,' he seemed to recognize what she was doing, and who was in charge. He did a better job of matching her timing on that one.

Hoping that he'd gotten the message, she left room in the third song, 'Since I Fell for You,' for his solo. It took him a moment to realize it, and when he did, he was considerably more subdued than the previous night. As she waited for him to finish, Jean realized that once again Cec was recording the proceedings, but at least this time she didn't have to cringe at the thought of what he was capturing.

The audience reaction was much closer to what she'd come to expect, even if only a single encore was required. She walked offstage feeling that she had managed the situation about as well as she could. Terry Reynolds had received the message. She only hoped there wouldn't be any fallout that Matthew or Lucien would have to handle.

She reached her dressing room, glad that her night was over. She removed her dress and was just about to clean off her stage makeup when her phone lit up with an incoming call. Knowing it was after midnight, her first panicked thought was that something had happened to one of her boys, but then she looked at the screen and saw Lucien's name pop up.

As soon as she pressed the screen to accept the call, she heard, "Hello, beautiful."

"Lucien, are you all right?"

"Much better for having heard your voice. I know it's late, but since I also knew you'd still be winding down after your performance, I wanted to let you know how proud I am of you," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"Cec showed me the whole thing. The way you put Terry Reynolds in his place was masterful. Bravo."

She could feel herself blush at the praise. "Thank you. I'm glad you approve of how I handled it."

"I'm only sorry you had to handle it at all. I'll be having words with Mister Reynolds."

"Please don't make an issue of it. I don't think it will happen again."

"I warned him about precisely that," said Lucien. "People in the audience paid their hard-earned money for your show, not for him to try to upstage you. I ought to fire him."

"I'd prefer that you didn't. He learned his lesson." She hated the thought of costing the man his job.

Lucien was silent for a moment. "All right. I'll speak with him about it, for ignoring my instructions. If it happens again, though, he'll be out on his ear."

"Thank you. Now, how are you doing?"

"Me? Right as rain," he told her, but she could tell it was forced.

"Lucien?"

"I'll be fine," he insisted.

"Weren't you supposed to be taking the day off?"

"I did. It's a new day now," he pointed out, with a smile in his voice.

She sighed in exasperation. "Just remember that if you need to talk - about anything - I'm available."

"Thank you, my dear. It's late and you should go home, but if you're planning to bring another load of your things over to Mattie's place tomorrow, I'd really like to see you."

"I am, and you will," said Jean, knowing that was probably as close as he could come right now to asking for her help.

"I look forward to it," he said softly. "Please drive home safely. Good night. Sleep well."

"You, too," she replied, just as softly. She was already anticipating seeing him on the morrow.


	18. Chapter 18

The issues with Terry Reynolds had been resolved, Lucien seemed himself (if a little subdued), and she would get to see him the following day. Jean slept soundly that night and awoke feeling strong and self-assured. She sang as she prepared herself some breakfast. Over her second cup of coffee she wrote out a list of everything she would take over to the new place. She was almost finished moving the small items - all that remained were the things she used every day.

Lucien had arranged with the band to rent a truck and move the furniture and everything else still remaining on the following day. She wondered if Terry would be with them. If so, she could be sure they had put their differences behind them. If not, it might be because he held a grudge, or because he was afraid to face Lucien's wrath.

In either case, she would deal with that tomorrow. For now, she packed the items on her list and headed to the beach and Lucien. It was very windy as she started up the Pacific Coast Highway. She could see sizable waves beating against the shore. Perhaps winter had finally arrived in Southern California. In any event, it made the ocean view even more majestic. Oh, she was going to enjoy living at the beach.

She pulled into the drive beside Mattie's house and continued on through to the guest house in the rear. As she began unloading the car, she kept looking over, expecting Lucien to appear and insist on helping, but he didn't arrive. She thought he might be down in his safe room, playing or listening to music.

She was almost finished unpacking the car when she spotted a couple of young men emerge from the water wearing wet suits and toting surfboards. They crossed the beach and started up Lucien's drive, out to the road to where an old, beat-up car was parked. Another soon followed, and then two more men came out of the water. She was startled to realize one of them was Lucien. He bid the younger man good-bye and then approached Jean, a big smile on his face, unzipping the wetsuit to halfway down his chest. His hair was a mass of curls from the salt water.

"Hello, my dear," he greeted her. "I'm sorry, it looks like I'm too late to help."

"Don't worry about it," said Jean tearing her eyes away from staring at what she could see of his broad chest. "I didn't know you surfed."

"Yes, since I was a boy. Would you like me to teach you?"

Jean was taken aback. "Me?"

"Why not? It's wonderful, both relaxing and exhilarating at the same time. I find it the best way to clear my head. You really should try it."

"I'm not sure about that, but I'd love to watch you the next time. Who are your friends?"

"Just some fellow surfing enthusiasts." He touched her forearm. "You know that technically the beach is all public land, but not many of the landowners will grant outsiders access to it, so there are several of them that come here to get to the water. I join them when I can."

He was such a decent man, Jean thought, and still full of surprises. "Did it help you, being out on the water?" she asked.

"I think it did," he said slowly. "But now I need to change out of this." He indicated the wetsuit. "Would you like to come over for coffee or tea after you get settled?"

"That'd be lovely," she told him, figuring they'd have time to talk. "I should be done in half an hour or so."

"Perfect," he said. "I'll see you then."

She hurried to put away the things she'd brought, at least as much as she could without any furniture to store them in. She was anxious to hear more from Lucien, and to reassure herself that he was fine and intact.

She opted for tea and Lucien followed suit, preparing mugs of the hot beverage and putting out a plate of cookies. Scout suddenly appeared, and after greeting Jean and receiving a friendly scratch between the ears, the feline wound herself around Lucien's legs and settled beside his bare feet.

"I wanted to thank you for what you're doing for Jack and his friend," she began. "It's very kind of you, and he's quite enthusiastic about making the business a success."

"That's good to hear. I'll confess that I went into this thing thinking of it as a philanthropic gesture, but Patrick is quite sure it can be a going concern. If anything, I had to hold him back from taking over entirely, but the two young men seem to have a clear idea of where they're going, and Patrick can provide a road map to help them get there."

"So you and Patrick both think this is a genuine business opportunity?"

"Jean, whatever his past circumstances may be, this time Jack seems to have his head on straight," he assured her.

"You can't imagine how happy that makes me to hear you say that," she told him.

"As a parent myself, even if an absentee one, I think I can imagine it," he said gently.

She had almost forgotten that he had a grown daughter, estranged as the girl was. So much of his life was still impacted by his long ago captivity. Which brought her back to the main reason she had needed to speak with him on this day.

"How are you doing, after your first session with Alice?" She studied his face and noted the furrow between his eyes and the slightly haunted expression he wore.

"I'm... dealing with it," he said.

"If you want to talk, or just have some company, I have nothing planned until I leave for the club tonight," she offered.

"Thank you, Jean, that's very kind."

She arched an eyebrow as she waited for a further response. When he didn't speak again, only stared down at his tea, she said, "Maybe you'd be more comfortable if we talked in your music room?"

"Yes, you're probably right," he said, picking up his mug and the plate of cookies and leading the way downstairs, with Scout following at his heels. Jean followed as well.

He indicated that Jean should have a seat while he put a vinyl record on the turntable. She immediately recognized the comforting, velvet voice of Nat 'King' Cole. When Lucien sat down opposite her, it was to perch on the edge of the seat, clasping and unclasping his hands. She hadn't seen him so off-balance since the night she'd witnessed his flashback.

She reached over to rest a hand atop his. "Lucien," she said gently to help him focus.

"Sorry," he said, taking a deep breath. "It's difficult. I want to do this; I want to put it all behind me. I'm just not entirely sure that I can get through it. Alice explained the whole process, and I don't know that I'm strong enough."

She squeezed his hands. "You trust Alice, don't you?" she asked.

"Yes, of course," he said quickly.

"And you know she wouldn't let you even attempt it if she wasn't sure you could do it."

"I think she has more faith in me than I deserve."

"Or she knows you better than you know yourself?"

"I suppose that's always a possibility," he admitted. He settled back in the chair, allowing Scout to jump onto his lap. "She did help me realize that for some reason my feelings about my father are wrapped around all of this. We'll have to address that, too."

"Oh? How will that be affected by seeing your father at the gala next week?"

"That's an excellent question," he said, with a slight sigh. "Alice suggested that I skip it this year."

"And what did you say to that?"

"I told her that while I respect and value her advice, I refuse to let this take away any more pieces of my life. I've lost enough already."

Jean grinned. "Good for you. And what did Alice say to that?"

He looked a little embarrassed. "Pretty much what you just said."

"She probably likes that you're taking control of at least some aspects of all this. So what else did you talk about?"

"Aside from going over what we'll cover in the sessions, she showed me a breathing technique, for when I'm feeling overwhelmed."

"And do you think that will work?"

"It did help during the session, so yes, probably."

"That's good, then." Again she leaned closer to him. "Lucien, I've seen how strong you are. I know you can do this."

He gave her a soft smile. "When you tell me that, I'm quite certain I can."

"Would it help if I sat in on the next session with you?" she offered.

"Yes. _NO! _I don't know...". His anguish was plain.

"Why don't you think about it," she urged. "If you want my help, just let me know."

"I always want your help. I always want _you, _Jean. You give me a reason to want to do this, to be a better man."

While she had always been proud of being someone that those around her could rely on, it was also a huge responsibility, especially where Lucien was concerned. She knew enough about PTSD to realize that it could result in crippling depression to its sufferers. If anything should happen to him... she couldn't bear to think of it.

"Will you promise me this, at least?" she asked. "If you need someone to talk to, no matter what time of the day or night, you'll call me? After all, from tomorrow on, I can be here for you in a matter of minutes."

That earned her a genuine smile from him. "Yes, from tomorrow on we'll be neighbors, won't we?"

"Yes, we will. You know, if you don't feel up to it, there's no need for you to help with the move. I'm sure we can manage."

He spoke firmly. "It's time I got back to living. I'll be on stage tonight, and I'll be there to help tomorrow."

* * *

When Jean got to the club that evening, Alice was standing at the bar speaking with Cec as he prepared for the night's crowd. When she spotted Jean, she waved a greeting. Jean went over to speak with her.

"How is everything?" Jean asked. "How's Lucy?"

"Lucy is just fine, thank you," said Alice. "Did you talk to Lucien today?"

"I saw him, actually, when I brought a load of my things over to Mattie's place, er, my place."

"How did he seem to you?"

"He was... subdued. Is that to be expected while he's going through these sessions?"

"Just subdued? He didn't seem depressed?"

"No, I don't think so," said Jean. "When I arrived he was just coming back from surfing. He said it helps him clear his head."

"He wasn't surfing alone, I hope?"

Jean shook her head. "There were several others with him." she narrowed her eyes. "All these questions, Alice. You don't think he's in any danger? To himself, I mean."

"No, not really. P.E., that is Prolonged Exposure therapy, has a small chance of causing depression. I've prescribed something for it, but he doesn't like to take antidepressants. He doesn't like the way they make him feel."

"But you'd still prefer he be around people most of the time."

"Yes," Alice admitted.

"He should be here shortly. He insisted on working tonight. And tomorrow he's planning to help with the move so there will be others around all day."

"Good." Alice leaned forward. "Jean, I gave him a breathing exercise to help with stress. If you see him in any difficulty, please remind him to use it."

"I'll do that," Jean promised. "Just get him through this safely, please, Alice."

"That is exactly what I plan to do," Alice said firmly.

Onstage that night, only the people who knew him best could see any difference in the man. The luminescence that was Lucien Blake shone just a few watts less brightly than usual.


	19. Chapter 19

Anxious for the day to begin (and the move to finally be over), Jean woke up early after a restless night. She made a big pot of coffee and put out a tray of pastries, then began to pack up the rest of her things. Lucien had again turned the Range Rover over to her, so she loaded it up until only the large pieces of furniture remained to be moved. At least with the apartment being so small there weren't many places items could hide to be inadvertently left behind, but she double checked the medicine cabinet, linen closet and tiny wardrobe, just in case. Satisfied, she sat down to enjoy her coffee until the men arrived. At least none of them had to work that night so there was no hurry to finish.

Somewhat predictably, Lucien was the first one there, followed shortly by young Charlie Davis driving the rented truck. A half-dozen others showed up soon after, including Terry. Jean made a point of thanking him separately for coming. He seemed a bit embarrassed, but he pitched in along with everyone else. She hoped that meant the incident was behind them.

As if reading her mind, as he so often seemed to do, Lucien said softly, "I spoke with Terry. He's been going through some personal difficulties, so I told him we could overlook it. He asked me to tell you he's sorry for being such an ass."

"It's already forgotten," said Jean, "but thank you."

She was pleased to see Lucien was much more himself today, joking with the other men and laughing more freely. He and Charlie seemed to concentrate on the heavier pieces - the couch, easy chair and bed - while the other men loaded the smaller, lighter articles of furniture. The table was saved for last, as they finished off the coffee and pastries before it went into the truck.

"Thank you, all," said Jean. "I just need to put out the last bit of trash, lock up and drop off the key. Why don't you go ahead?"

"Everyone knows the way, right? It's just next to my house, and you've all been there," said Lucien.

"Sure thing, boss," said Charlie. "We'll meet you there."

Jean saw the others off, then took the final steps to end her residency at the tiny studio apartment. Despite the fact that it had witnessed the monumental changes in her life of late, she wasn't sorry to turn her back on it. Especially not when she was moving to such a lovely place at the beach.

By the time she reached her new home, the men had backed the truck right up to the porch, ready to unload it. Lucien had provided beers for everyone while they waited. As soon as she unlocked the door, they were emptying the truck while Jean directed them where to place each piece of furniture. The rooms still looked bare even with all the furniture arranged, there being so much more space here than in her previous place, but that meant she could indulge herself by buying new pieces to fill it out.

When the truck was completely unloaded, Jean handed out gift boxes filled with her homemade cookies to thank each of the men for their help.

"This is great. Thank you," said Charlie, peeking at the contents. "If you'll excuse me, I'll just get the truck back to the rental place."

"I'll follow you in my car to drop you off wherever you want to go," Terry offered. He really must regret his boorish behavior, Jean thought.

"We'll leave you to get settled then, unless there's anything else you need?" said Lucien.

"No, this is perfect," said Jean. "Thank you all so much for your help."

Charlie waved it off. "We do this all the time. Somebody always seems to be moving."

They all trooped out, most going over to Lucien's house, Jean noted, before turning her attention toward settling in.

As she opened boxes and put things away, she made a mental note of the items she needed to purchase. Shelving for books and music was at the top of the list. It was so lovely to finally have wall space for shelves again.

After making up her bed and putting out linens in the bathroom, she turned her attention to the pictures and photos she wanted to hang up. She couldn't help but smile as she looked at the very first photo her son Christopher had taken of the newborn Amelia. She would hang it right next to the one of her two boys as young children hanging onto their father's hands. It had been taken only a month before he was deployed to the Middle East and was gone from their lives. It was hard for her to realize just how long ago that had been.

Returning her attention to the task at hand, she opened her small tool box and took out the hammer and frame hangers, only to remember she didn't have a spirit level to make sure she hung them straight. She had borrowed one from Christopher the last time she moved. She wondered if Lucien might have one he could lend her.

Only as she headed for the door did it register that she'd been hearing shouts, jeering and other sounds coming from the beach for quite a while. She looked out to see Lucien, Charlie, and the others playing football in the sand. Despite the cool wind coming off the water, most of the men had removed their shirts and all were barefoot.

Jean noted that Charlie was very nicely built, as she would expect of a bouncer, but Lucien, _oh, my word!_ She felt herself flush as she studied his broad chest and magnificent biceps. Where were all the Greek sculptors when you needed them?

She paused in the doorway, getting herself back under control before she dared to make her presence known. Leave it to Lucien to spot her anyway.

He grabbed a towel and draped it around his neck as he called out, "Did you need something, Jean?"

"Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt your game," she said.

"I think we're done here anyway," he said, as the others began to towel off and collect their discarded clothes and shoes. The sun was quickly sinking toward the horizon.

"Thank you again for your help today," she called out to them. Hands were waved in acknowledgment, and they began to disperse to their vehicles. She turned back to Lucien. "I was just wondering if you happened to have a spirit level. I want to hang some photographs."

"I do," he said. "Come on in while I find it for you."

"Thank you. And also could you refresh my memory about the way to the grocery store from here? I've been using up what food I had all week so there would be less to move. Consequently my cupboard is practically bare."

"It will be dark soon. Why don't I drive you?" Lucien suggested. "That way you can note the turns and landmarks along the way."

"You don't have to."

"It would be my pleasure," he assured her. "You can hang your pictures first while I shower and change."

"Thank you. Again," said Jean.

He grinned. "Just being a good neighbor."

She had to smile back at that.

* * *

It was fully dark as they made their way home after shopping. As he drove, Lucien pointed out other places she might want to know about - dry cleaners, bakery, post office, pharmacy, coffee shop.

When they turned onto their own street, they noticed a commotion up ahead, seemingly right in front of their homes. Flashing lights split the darkness. As they approached slowly, Jean realized that two vehicles belonging to the county sheriff's department were blocking in another car. The deputies had a young man spread-eagled against it.

Lucien swore under his breath as he pulled over to the side of the road, leaving his headlights on to illuminate the scene before them.

"What's going on?" asked Jean nervously.

"It's Ned Simmons, one of the surfers. He told me a couple of the sheriff's men had been giving him trouble for parking out here." Lucien turned on his phone's camera and started recording, then handed it to Jean. "Get a record of everything that happens, please. And stay in the car unless they order you out. Don't get involved. If anything happens, please call Patrick and ask him to send an attorney. The number's in my contacts. And get the video out in public. Mattie can help you with that, if you need it."

"Lucien, what are you going to do?" Jean demanded, more scared than she'd been in quite some time.

"I'm going to remind them that Ned has rights, too," said Lucien, as he opened the car door.

She had a difficult time holding the camera still as she watched him approach the deputies with his hands held out away from his body to show he had no weapon.

"What's the problem here, gentlemen?" he asked as he came to a stop just far enough away so that they could see him clearly without him seeming threatening.

"Nothing that concerns you," one of the deputies told him.

"It would appear to concern me since that's my house," Lucien told them, pointing it out.

"We caught this one creeping around your house, then. Trespassing. Probably planning to rob the place."

"I hardly think so. I know this young man, and he had my permission to be on the property," Lucien told them, his voice even. He leaned a step forward, looking more closely at Ned. "How did he happen to come by the bruises on his face, may I ask?"

"None of your business," growled one of the deputies. "Get back in your car, buddy, if you know what's good for you."

"I'll do that. Just as soon as you release this young man and let him come with me," said Lucien.

"That's not going to happen. Now go," a deputy ordered. "I'm not kidding around here. Get lost."

"I'm afraid I can't walk away and let you rough up my young friend here any further."

"Then you can come along with him," said the deputy, moving closer and brandishing his baton.

"On what charge?" Lucien asked, still appearing remarkably calm.

Without warning, the deputy hit Lucien in the midsection with his nightstick, and while he was doubled over in pain, two other deputies grabbed his arms roughly and handcuffed him.

"Resisting arrest," smirked the one who'd hit him.

Jean was about to protest, but she broke it off, realizing she could be of more help to Lucien (and Ned, too) by following his request. She would be sure he got an attorney and that proof of what really happened was made public.

She continued to record, although her hands were shaking, while they forced Lucien and Ned into separate patrol cars, then the two police vehicles drove away, probably not even realizing she was there in Lucien's car. When they were out of sight, she finally turned off the camera. Trying to will herself to calm down, she managed to find Patrick Tyneman's contact on Lucien's phone and called him.


	20. Chapter 20

"Tyneman," Patrick said over the phone.

"Mr. Tyneman, this is Jean Beazley. I'm sorry to bother you so late."

"Yes, Mrs. Beazley, how can I help you?"

"Lucien asked me to call you. I'm afraid he's just been arrested," Jean told the man, and she explained what had happened.

"Thank you for calling me. I'll take it from here," said Patrick. "Go home, try to relax. If you'll give me your own number, I'll call you when I have some news."

Her hands were still shaking as Jean slid into the driver's seat of Lucien's car and drove it up the road to the driveway and parked beside the house.

Instead of going to her own home, though, she went to Mattie's. She had to talk about what she'd just seen. She heaved a sigh of relief when the younger woman answered her knock.

"Jean, what can I... Come in and sit down, and tell me what happened," she urged, drawing Jean into her kitchen. "You look like you could use a drink. What can I get you? Scotch? Bourbon?"

"I think I really just need a good hot cup of tea, if you don't mind."

Mattie quickly filled her kettle and turned it on, then faced Jean. "First, are you all right?"

"I'm fine, only shaken up by what I just witnessed, but Lucien isn't fine, I'm certain."

"Tell me, please," Mattie urged.

"I'll show you," said Jean. "Lucien asked me to record it on his phone and upload it to make it public."

She started the recording and handed the device to Mattie.

"Is that Ned Simmons?" Mattie asked.

"Yes, that's what Lucien said his name was. Do you know him?"

"I know he's one of the surfers that comes through here. We've spoken a couple times." She grew quiet to listen to the recording as she watched Lucien approach the deputies. Jean watched it over her shoulder, and it was just as shocking as seeing it live.

Mattie gasped when the officer struck Lucien, and again when he was handcuffed. As they shoved him toward the squad car, she paused the recording to back it up and play it again. "Look there," she cried, pointing to where they could see his knees buckle. "He's trying to curl into a fetal position. He's having a flashback. It was the handcuffs that did it."

"I didn't even notice it," said Jean in dismay. "I was so shocked by what happened that I missed that."

"I only saw it because I was looking for it," said Mattie. "He can't spend the night in jail!"

"I called Patrick Tyneman who was going to send a lawyer," said Jean.

"That's good, but they may use some excuse not to process him until the morning so they might not let the attorney see him tonight. I'm going to call my father. He knows the Los Angeles mayor as well as some of the county supervisors. Maybe even the sheriff, I don't know."

"And that poor boy Ned needs to be released as well," Jean insisted.

"Yes, he does. I'm going to call my father first and send him the video. Then we'll put it online. YouTube and Twitter, I think."

"I just remembered, all my groceries are still sitting in Lucien's car. I'll go get them, give you some privacy to speak with your father."

She went back outside and unlocked the door to her house first so she wouldn't have to juggle the keys with her arms full of grocery bags. Lucien hadn't left any exterior lights on, so it was dark around the car. As shaken as she still was by the whole incident, she approached the vehicle slowly. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw someone else near the car, trying the door handle. She was glad she'd thought to lock it when she got out.

"Who's there?" she called out, terrified but hoping to scare away the intruder. It worked. The man (and she could make out enough of his shape to determine that it was a man) quickly fled. He ran toward the road, where Jean could see a car waiting. The man jumped into the passenger side, and the vehicle sped away, but not before Jean made out that it was a sheriff's department car. She wondered what they were after. Could they have realized there might be a recording of the incident?

In any event, she made quick work of unloading her groceries. She made sure to lock the car up again, although she thought they probably had the means to break into it anyway if they were determined enough.

She put the groceries away as fast as she could, locked her door and returned to see Mattie, who was just finishing the call to her father.

"Dad threw his weight around," Mattie reported as she gathered up her keys and purse. "I sent him the video, and he was outraged. He called the sheriff directly, as well as the district attorney and a couple of judges. And it seems the attorney Patrick sent is at the jail already. Lucien's release is being processed now. If we leave immediately we can probably get there in time to pick him up."

"I think we should take his car," said Jean. "I just caught a deputy trying to break into it."

"What?" Mattie was indignant. "Whatever for?"

"I suspect they realized he doesn't have his phone, and they were afraid they'd been filmed."

"Too bad for them. It's already on the internet. They might just get what they deserve for once," Mattie said as they got into the car.

"What about that poor boy, Ned? Did your father have any word on him?"

Mattie laughed harshly. "It turns out 'that poor boy Ned' as you call him is the nephew of one of the leaders of that tribe that owns the casino down by San Diego. One of the wealthiest tribes in the country. Those deputies really picked a fight with the wrong people. Some big-reputation attorney is handling Ned's case and already threatening a civil rights lawsuit."

"As long as someone is held accountable for what they did," said Jean. She paused. "We should probably call Alice, too."

"Already done," said Mattie. "She'll call Lucien first thing tomorrow morning."

"I just hope he's all right," Jean said quietly.

"We'll make sure he is," Mattie assured her.

* * *

When they arrived at the Malibu-Lost Hills Station of the Sheriff's Department, Jean thought they could just wait outside tor him to emerge, since the attorneys for the two men were already handling matters, but Mattie, whose relationship with authority figures was vastly different, insisted on going inside. She wasn't above throwing her father's weight around even more. Jean, still shaken by what she'd witnessed earlier, couldn't allow Mattie to go in alone, so reluctantly she accompanied her.

As they reached the front desk, Jean spotted Lucien standing further inside, next to a tall, silver-haired man, presumably the attorney Patrick had sent. Beyond them was Ned Simmons with a well-dressed young man carrying a briefcase. Ned did not look pleased as the other man seemed to be giving the officers a difficult time.

She studied Lucien from afar. She could see that his shoulders were hunched inward protectively and his eyes were firmly fixed on the floor. She continued to watch him, hoping to catch his eye so she might have a better idea of how he was doing.

He must have sensed her attention because he looked up and locked gazes with her. He gave a sheepish shrug of his shoulders, and at the same time stiffened his back and seemed more alert.

Five minutes later Lucien, Ned, and their attorneys walked out to the front desk where she and Mattie were waiting. Lucien immediately went to Jean, and the two of them hugged.

"How are you?" Jean asked softly.

"All the better for seeing you," he told her.

Remembering his manners, Lucien made the introductions. "Jean Beazley, Mattie O'Brien, this is my friend Ned Simmons, his attorney Winston Cummings, and my attorney Noel Foster. Gentlemen, these are my dear friends, Jean and Mattie, both of whom, I suspect, have done us a great service this evening."

Ned nodded shyly to Jean and offered Mattie a smile, while Winston said, "Thank you, ladies. Mister Blake is right. That video made it much easier to get Mister Simmons and him released immediately."

Noel shook hands with both women and said very softly, "I think we should take this outside." His eyes shifted toward the deputy who was on duty at the front desk and listening to every word.

"Yes, I expect you're right," said Lucien. He took Jean's hand in his and led the way right down to the sidewalk outside.

"What do you say we get something to eat and talk over dinner?" Jean suggested. "I'm guessing no one has eaten yet."

"That sounds good to me," said Lucien.

"I don't trust any of the restaurants around here," said Winston. "They probably get most of their business from the deputies."

Mattie turned to Lucien. "What about the deli? I've never seen any police there, and you know we can ask Harold to give us a signal if any come in."

"If no one minds a casual meal, we can trust the owner there to be discreet," Lucien explained to the others.

At a word from Lucien, Harold gave them the most private table in his restaurant, and after ordering and getting there drinks, Winston got right down to business.

"They might be planning to drop all charges, but that won't be the end of it, any more than tonight was the beginning. Mister Simmons tells me they've been accosting him ever since he moved up here."

"Yes, he told me that as well," said Lucien.

"That's why Lucien insisted on intervening," said Jean.

"And that's why I plan to file a civil rights complaint against the Sheriff's Department and the County of Los Angeles," Winston told them. "Mister Foster, would you be willing to join it on behalf of Mister Blake?"

Noel glanced at Lucien, who gave his head a quick shake in the negative. "Mister Cummings, I think you have solid grounds for a lawsuit on behalf of your client, but I don't think I can say the same for Lucien. If you'd like my help in preparing your case, I'll provide any assistance I can."

"And I'm willing to testify on Ned's behalf regarding what happened today, but I hardly think anyone will look at me and believe I'm a victim of civil rights abuses," said Lucien, spreading his arms wide.

"I would point out, however," said Noel, "that you have an excellent case for wrongful arrest and even assault against the officer who hit you."

"I'll leave that to Ned," said Lucien, sounding very tired suddenly.

Throughout the meal, the two attorneys did most of the talking, telling Lucien and Ned what they might expect. They both were confident that all charges would be dropped and the arrests expunged.

"What about the deputies who did this?" Jean asked. "I should tell you that not long after it happened, I came across one of them trying to break into Lucien's car. Are they going to get away with what they've done, so that they're free to do it again to someone else?"

"I don't suppose you can identify which deputy you saw?" asked Noel.

"I'm afraid it was too dark to see him clearly, but once I confronted him, he got into a sheriff's vehicle and sped away?"

"You confronted an armed deputy?" Lucien was startled.

"I didn't know he was an armed deputy when I confronted him," said Jean. "I just saw someone trying to get into your car."

"Jean thinks they were looking for your phone," said Mattie.

Ned spoke up. "Lucien, while you were... unresponsive one of them searched you, looking for your phone. They were afraid you had recorded some of what happened."

"They were right to be afraid," said Mattie. "At last count the video had over ten thousand hits on YouTube and almost two thousand retweets on Twitter."

"That, combined with pressure from several highly placed sources, means they won't get away with it," said Noel.

"I doubt they'll lose their jobs, though," said Winston bitterly. "They'll just learn to pick their targets more cleverly in the future."

Jean noticed that Lucien ate much less than he normally would and added little to the conversation as the meal went on. She could see that Mattie also was aware and provided the excuse for them to get away.

"I'm sorry to be a nuisance, but I have an early shift at the hospital tomorrow, and Lucien has a doctor's appointment first thing, so, Jean and Lucien, if you don't mind, we really should be going."

"Yes, we should," said Jean, shooting Mattie a look of gratitude.

Noel stood up. "Lucien, I'll call you as soon as I hear anything, but don't be concerned about this. It'll be cleared up in no time. In the meantime, if you have any questions, call me."

Lucien thanked him and settled the check for their meal, then Jean slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and guided him out toward the car. Mattie insisted on driving, so Jean sat in the rear with Lucien.

"How are you, really?" she asked him quietly.

"Exhausted," he admitted. "I always am afterwards."

"Did the breathing exercises help at all?"

"I'm afraid I didn't really have a chance to try. After he hit me in the solar plexus, I recall I was just trying to breathe at all, and I think when he put on the handcuffs, that was it. After that I wasn't aware of anything until they already had me in a cell, which wasn't much better." He looked forlorn. "I'm not looking forward to telling Alice about all of this."

Mattie spoke up. "Lucien, you've only had one session. I think Alice will understand that you were under extreme duress tonight. She can hardly have expected you to handle it calmly. Let her help you unpack what happened."

"Yes, I know you're right," Lucien sighed. "I had just hoped the worst was behind me, but it seems I have a long way to go."

"You'll get there. I have faith in you. We all do," Jean assured him.

When they reached home, Mattie pulled the car into the garage to prevent any further attempts at intrusion.

"I feel like I've been gone for weeks instead of hours," Lucien sighed as he locked up the garage.

"I'm glad you're back safe," said Mattie, kissing him on the cheek.

"Thanks to you, in no small part."

She waved it away. "I'm glad I could help. Good night, you two."

When she had disappeared into her house, Lucien turned to Jean. "And thanks to you, too, my dear."

She gave him a smile. "I'm just glad it didn't turn out any worse than it did. You're home and safe." She kissed him softly, gently, before saying, "I'd feel much better if you'd let me spend the night once again. I don't like to think of you being alone tonight."

"But it's your first night in your new home," Lucien protested. "I don't want to be a burden."

"You could never be a burden," she insisted, "and tomorrow night can be the first night in my new home."

He kissed her again, murmuring, "I don't know how I got to be so lucky."

"And here I thought I was the lucky one," said Jean, taking his hand as they walked to the door.


	21. Chapter 21

Jean was sound asleep when the shaking woke her. Her immediate thought was an earthquake, but as she became fully awake she realized there was none of the rattling or creaking sounds from surrounding objects that usually accompanied earth tremors. No, this seemed to be something else, and the shaking seemed too prolonged for an earthquake.

Slowly she rolled over onto her other side to face Lucien, intending to ask him about it when she realized he was the source. He was literally shaking the entire bed. He was lying curled up on his side, facing away from her, with his hands clasped behind his back as though they were cuffed there. He made not a sound, but his entire body was shaking violently.

Jean had no idea if this was another flashback or a nightmare, but she hesitated for only a moment before reaching out to lay a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Lucien?" she said softly, hoping not to startle him.

He was startled nonetheless. He jerked upright, scanning the room nervously until his eyes met Jean's. "I do beg your pardon," he said quietly. "Did I wake you?"

"Lucien, you were having a nightmare," she said.

"Yes, I'm afraid that happens frequently. But I'm fine once I wake up, so thank you."

He slid back down as though he planned to go right back to sleep, but Jean moved closer to him. "Would you mind holding me?" she asked, as much for her own sake as for his. The previous evening's events had left her feeling totally off-balance and in need of comfort.

"Why would I mind?" he said with a soft smile while lifting his arm to allow her to cuddle up against his side.

"This is nice," she sighed in contentment, her head on his shoulder as she ran a hand over his pajama-clad chest.

"It is," he agreed, sleepily dropping a kiss to the top of her head. "Jean, I..."

"Go back to sleep, Lucien. That's what we both need right now," she told him, not wanting him to feel he needed to apologize for not taking things farther. At some point the time would be right for their relationship to move to the next level, but this wasn't that time. Not yet, anyway.

* * *

In the morning, when she woke up again, Jean was alone in the bed. For a moment she wondered where Lucien had gone, but then she heard the shower running and she remembered that Alice was going to call him first thing. He would want to be alert for that.

The bed was so comfortable that she considered going back to sleep before remembering how much she still had to do to get settled in her new home across the way and decided she'd pop into the guest room shower for a quick wash. She was gathering up her clothes to take into the guest room when her phone sounded. A glance at the screen told her it was Mattie.

"Sorry to bother you so early, but I thought you should know there's a gaggle of reporters outside," she told Jean. "So far they're all out in the road, but they'll probably converge if they see anyone come out."

"Thank you, Mattie. I'll let Lucien know."

"If you need me to distract them while you leave, I can do that," Mattie offered. "In case you don't want your sons to know you spent the night there."

Jean laughed. "I expect my sons already think we've gone much farther than we actually have. They certainly won't be shocked that I spent the night with Lucien, but thank you for the offer."

"Okay. It's just, well, knowing it's going on and seeing proof of it on television aren't exactly the same thing. I'm just saying."

"I don't think it can be considered proof if nothing really happened, but we'll be discreet," Jean promised. She thought it was very sweet of Mattie to be worried about her reputation.

"All right, then. Give Lucien my love, and I'm sure we'll talk later."

"Goodbye, Mattie."

Lucien emerged from the bathroom already dressed for the day just as she disconnected the call.

"That was Mattie," she told him. "Apparently you are a news item this morning. There are reporters camped out in the road."

"Is that right? Shall we take a look?" he suggested.

They walked across the hall to the bedrooms that faced east, looking out over the street. With the early morning sun reflecting off the glass they could gaze out without being seen themselves. There were six news vans parked there, complete with reporters and cameramen.

"How do you feel about this?" Jean asked. She remembered that he'd seemed at ease with the newspaper critic who'd interviewed him, but that was in a professional capacity. This was his personal life.

He gave her an ironic smile. "In a way it takes me back to my days as a teenager in the limelight. But I have a feeling TMZ won't be quite as easily handled as the reporters for _Tiger Beat_ were."

She couldn't suppress a laugh. "I wonder if old issues of _Tiger Beat _are available online. I'd love to see that article."

"I was very charming back then, I'll have you know."

"I don't doubt it. You're very charming now," she told him, giving him a quick kiss. "Now, are you going to do anything about them?"

"I suppose they're only doing their job," he said. "Maybe if I give them an interview they'll be satisfied and leave us in peace. I don't suppose you'd like to join me? You know what they say about publicity."

"That's all right. I'm sure you can handle them quite capably on your own while I go back home and work on getting settled in."

"Whatever you want. And Jean, thank you. For everything you've done. I've very grateful to you."

She waved it off. "I'm only glad I was there last night or it might have ended up much worse. I'll see you at work tonight?"

"We can carpool if you like, and until then...". He gave her a slow, luxurious kiss that she fully enjoyed.

"Any more of that and I won't want to leave, but I must," she said. "Bye, Lucien."

"Let me go first. I'll draw their attention away so they won't bother you," he told her.

True to his word, he walked outside and over to where the reporters were waiting. He went right through the crowd of them, up into the street itself so that the cameras followed him and were pointed away from the house. Jean took advantage of his clever maneuver and let herself out the back door. She hurried across the lawn and into her own home while hearing the reporters call out questions and laugh at something Lucien said. It seemed he hadn't lost his touch in handling them.

Inside her new home Jean got to work settling in. She reveled in the spacious new kitchen with plenty of cabinets and even a pantry with a spice drawer. She could stock up on cooking ingredients in a way she hadn't been able to for many years. It might be time to purchase the cookbooks she'd been eying in that online bookstore. She would love to be able to invite company for dinner again on her nights off. Maybe plan a brunch to thank the band for their help in moving.

She had moved on to arranging the linen closet when she heard the text notification sound on her phone. It was Lucien, of course.

'When u need a break I hv hot coffee'

With a smile at his thoughtfulness, she decided to call him rather than replying. He answered immediately. "Hello, neighbor. I sent you home without breakfast. Coffee seems the least I can do."

She heard a voice in the background that sounded surprisingly like Lucien. "Who's there with you? I can call back."

"Oh. One moment, please." And the background voice stopped. "Better?"

"That sounded like your voice. A recording of the interview this morning?"

"No, actually it was a recording of my session with Alice. As part of the process I have to listen to the prior session daily," he explained.

"Then coffee can definitely wait until you finish," said Jean firmly. She would not interfere in his quest for healing.

"Thank you, Jean. Another forty minutes, if you'd like to come over then."

"I'll be there. See you then."

She disconnected the call and returned to the linen closet, all the while wondering about the possibility of hearing one of those recordings. She was very curious about the process, given that Lucien was setting all his hopes on its success.

When she got back over to Lucien's house, he had the table laid and the coffee was hot, as promised.

"Did you speak with Alice?" she asked as she savored her first sip of caffeine.

"I did. We decided to move the next session up a day, so it's the day after tomorrow."

"Oh? Because of last night?"

"No, actually because of the gala this weekend," he explained. "I wanted to be sure I'm fully recovered by then, and the extra day will help."

"Oh, I'd almost forgotten that was this weekend. Are you looking forward to it?"

"I'm looking forward to spending the evening with you, and I always enjoy meeting the kids we're helping through the foundation, but seeing my father, on the other hand, not so much." He grimaced at the very thought of it.

"I must say I'm somewhat curious to meet him," said Jean. "Is he really such an ogre or is it just his relationship with you?"

"I'll be the first to admit that sons often have a somewhat skewed view of their father, for better or worse, but you can always ask Mattie about dear old Dad. She knows him well enough."

Jean made a mental note to do just that. She wanted to be ready for whatever the elder Blake might throw at Lucien.

* * *

"You'll never be ready for what he might do," Mattie warned her. "Thomas Blake has always been a bully, and a particularly nasty one where his sons were concerned. Honestly, I don't know how Genevieve has managed to put up with him all these years, but I guess she must really love him. Ugh."

"Or she's afraid she can't handle being on her own, especially in her rather frail condition," said Jean.

"I suppose that's part of it now. I love the woman dearly, and I've never seen Thomas treat her badly, but how can she ignore what he's done to both of her sons?"

"It's always difficult to understand a marriage from the outside looking in. We don't even know how much she's aware of. I'm sure he's very good at rationalizing his actions. He'd have to be to live with himself, wouldn't he?"

"Either that or he's a sociopath," said Mattie. "And I wouldn't rule that out completely either. How could Lucien possibly be the offspring of that man?"

"Thankfully he seems to take after his mother in his temperament," said Jean. She sighed. "I don't suppose you'll be at the gala for moral support?"

"No, not this year. I'm working at the hospital that night. I'm not sure if I'm sorry or relieved to miss it though."

"Well, now you've made me apprehensive about the whole thing, mostly for Lucien's sake. For my own, I don't much care whether Thomas approves of me."

"Just don't be alone with him, or let Lucien be," warned Mattie, shuddering. "I can tell you from experience. He's at his absolute worst when there's no one around that he needs to impress."

"I'll bear that in mind," said Jean, vowing to stick close to Lucien's side for the entire time. "Now, I need a new dress for the occasion. I don't suppose you'd like to come shopping with me?"

"Shopping for a formal occasion? Now you're speaking my language," said Mattie with a laugh. "Just name the time and I'm there. It almost makes me wish I were going, just so I'd have an excuse to buy a dress myself. Almost."


	22. Chapter 22

By mutual agreement Jean and Lucien did not discuss work on their way to or from the club. As they drove in on the day before his next session with Alice, Jean wanted to know more about what she could expect at the gala that weekend.

"I assure you, it's quite a lovely affair," Lucien told her. "The house will have flowers everywhere, most especially in the ballroom. There will be a twenty-piece orchestra of first rate musicians, plenty of dancing. They're also there to back up the young musicians who will be performing on the program. And there's usually a top-tier chef catering the dinner."

"It does sound lovely," Jean agreed. "Are you involved at all in the planning of it?"

Lucien shook his head. "It's all Dad. Even Maman has limited input."

"I thought you told me you provided the financing for the whole thing. Shouldn't you have a say in the preparations?"

"I suppose I could, but that would mean working with my father, which is never recommended. He's doesn't exactly play well with others."

"The more I hear about your father, the more intrigued I am to meet the man," said Jean.

"Just bear in mind, there is no pressure on you to have him like you," Lucien told her. "His opinion makes absolutely no difference to me whatsoever," he said, turning his head to grin at her. "So if you'd like to spend the whole evening annoying him, I won't mind at all."

She laughed. "I probably won't do that, tempting as it sounds, not with donations to your foundation hanging in the balance."

"Your choice, but the option stands," he told her.

He was a dear, she thought, removing all expectations so she could enjoy the event without worrying about impressing anyone.

* * *

When they arrived at the club, they split up to take their clothes for the performance into their respective dressing rooms. After she took care of what needed doing, Jean went out to find Lucien. He was behind the bar chatting with Matthew.

"Jean, hello," Matthew said. "I need to thank you for being on the scene last night."

She shook her head. "I still can hardly believe all that happened."

Lucien seemed to want to put it all behind them though. He quickly changed the subject. "Are you ready for the next two nights? I'm sure Terry will be a bit more cooperative this time."

"I'm sure it won't be a problem. I have no doubts about Terry. We're fine now," Jean assured him. "There was something else I wanted to ask you, though. There's a song I'd like to add to the set. Eric Clapton's 'Give Me Strength'. Do you know it?"

She saw Matthew perk up, obviously hoping she had stumped Lucien, but instead Lucien walked over to the piano and played the opening chords. "Oh, Lord, give me strength to carry on," he sang.

"Yes, that's the one," said Jean. "What do you think?"

"I think it will work well," said Lucien, "but not with the piano. Just the guitar would be much better, I think."

Jean smiled. "Yes, I think so too. Oh, but maybe we should wait until after you get back to introduce it, then."

"Why's that?"

"Is there another guitar player in the band to replace you?" asked Jean.

"There is. You know Lou, the part-time bass player?"

"Lou Dixon? Yes, I know him," said Jean. Lou filled in at times, and he was a superb bassist, but he kept to himself most of the time. He seldom joined in when the others joked or horsed around.

"Lou is one of the most in-demand bass players on the west coast," Lucien explained. "He could play full-time for the Philharmonic if he wanted, he's that good, but he has a son with special needs, so he has to arrange his schedule around that. And he probably plays the guitar even better than he plays the bass."

"Really?" said Jean. She decided she would make an effort to get to know the man better.

Lucien went upstairs to get his guitar, and when he came down with it, members of the band were starting to arrive for work. He went over to speak with Lou, who nodded in acknowledgement before walking outside.

"He just went out to get his own guitar," Lucien explained. "He keeps it in his car, despite how many times I've warned him it could be stolen. Lou says he needs to keep it handy."

"In this case, it works to our advantage," said Jean.

When Lou returned, he and Lucien pulled stools onto the stage area and they sat facing each other so that Lou could see what Lucien was doing. Jean stood over Lucien's shoulder and they began the song. When they reached the solo part, Jean closed her eyes to listen. It was perfect, the sound of two guitars, and Jean opened her eyes to ask Lucien if they could find another guitar player to duplicate it when he was away. It was only then she realized that Lou wasn't even playing, that Lucien was creating the sound of the two instruments all on his own as Lou watched closely. She had heard this was possible but had never witnessed it before.

So intrigued was she she with the technique that when it came time for her to start singing again, she missed her cue, which made Lucien stop playing.

"That's amazing, what you just did," she told him.

"It is," Lou agreed, as he tried to imitate it on his own guitar.

"Thank you," said Lucien. "Let's finish the run-through, and then I can work on it with you, Lou."

Once they had the timing down, Jean joined Matthew over by the bar while Lucien and Lou continued working together.

"You need anything?" Matthew asked her. "Tea, water?"

"No, thank you, I'm fine. Have you ever seen anything like that?" she asked, indicating Lucien's playing. "Is that the Robert Johnson technique?"

Legendary bluesman Robert Johnson supposedly sold his soul to the devil in exchange for his newfound prowess with the guitar.

"It is," said Matthew. He leaned closer to Jean. "It didn't cost Lucien his soul, learning to do that, but almost his sanity. After his wife left him and took their daughter, Lucien became nearly a hermit, hardly ever going out of the house for a couple months. He sat inside all day listening to those scratchy Robert Johnson recordings and trying to copy the sound. When he finally mastered it, he suddenly came alive again."

"Well, I'm not sure it's worth someone's soul _or _sanity, but it certainly is impressive," said Jean, wondering how many other hidden talents Lucien possessed.

* * *

Later, as she was getting ready to go onstage, Jean couldn't help but wonder what kind of reception Lucien might receive from the audience. Surely most of them would have heard about his dealings with the Sheriff's Department - it had been all over the local news reports. She fervently hoped there would be no heckling or critical comments thrown his way.

To offer her support if needed, she went to stand just offstage where he would be able to see her but she would be out of sight of the patrons.

As usual, when he was ready Lucien merely walked out to sit at the piano with no introduction. This night, however, as soon as he stepped into the circle of light surrounding his piano, many members of the crowd got to their feet and applauded him wildly. He looked bewildered for a moment before it seemed to dawn on him that they were showing their approval for what he had done.

He glanced toward Jean, who gave him a big smile and a gentle handclap of her own. In return he gave her a slight shrug which seemed to help him regain his composure.

He bowed to the audience in acknowledgment of their support, then sat down at the piano and ostentatiously flexed his fingers over the keyboard. Jean saw him grin briefly before launching into several bars of "Tie a Yellow Ribbon". The crowd roared with laughter, and the moment was over. He could begin the program he'd planned.

When Jean came out to join him, she could feel the energy of the audience carry over to her own performance. She absolutely loved evenings like this, and she was reminded why she loved being in the business. It took three encores before the crowd would let them off the stage.

Lucien wore a huge smile as they walked off hand in hand.

"This," said Jean, "this right here is why I prefer that we work together. There's nothing like it."

He pulled their joined hands to his mouth and kissed hers. "There's nothing like _you, _my dear," he told her.

She pulled him closer. "Or you," she whispered, and she kissed him.

"Get a room, you two," Matthew growled good-naturedly as he walked past them.

They broke apart, both laughing.

_Soon,_ Jean thought. Not tonight, with his session tomorrow morning, but soon. _It will be the right time very soon._

* * *

She was still thinking about that the next day, as she and Mattie were looking at formal gowns. On their way through the store to the formalwear area they had passed the lingerie department, and Jean decided she would stop there after she found the right dress for the gala. After all, a new gown required the proper undergarments, she told herself.

"You know," said Mattie, "once you launch your fabulously successful career with Lucien, you'll be able to have your dresses custom-made. With your figure, you'll have designers fighting over the privilege of dressing you."

Jean raised her eyebrow in skepticism. "Oh, yes, to wear to the Grammy Awards. Or the Oscars."

"I'm telling you, you're going to be a big star," Mattie insisted.

Jean just shook her head at her young friend's foolishness. Her hopes for success were much less grand: to work where and when she wanted, to make a comfortable living, to be appreciated as a professional.

"Since that won't be happening before the gala, I'll have to buy something off the rack," she said dryly.

Mattie laughed. "I guess so. See anything you like?"

They began looking through the gowns.

"What do you think about black?" asked Jean, holding up a black silk with a simple bodice and a full skirt."

"Depends on whether you intend to blend in or stand out," said Mattie.

"I don't know which I want to do, to be honest," said Jean.

"All right, then let me ask you this, why are you going?"

"Because Lucien asked me. Because I've never been to a function like that. Because I want to be there to support Lucien if he has a run in with his father. Because..."

"Because it will actually be a very glamorous affair, and if you avoid Thomas, you'll have a wonderful time?" Mattie suggested.

Jean smiled. "Well, maybe a little of that, too," she admitted.

"Then you want something that'll knock their socks off, and maybe Lucien's too, while you're at it," Mattie said firmly. "Not black, then. Something more vibrant."

"Nothing yellow or gold or anything in that range," said Jean.

"No, you want a color that's deep and rich. I'm thinking dark green or midnight blue." She held up one of each against Jean. "Hmm, the green makes your eyes look almost teal in color. Very attractive."

"I do like that shade, but not the style."

"Agreed. If we're looking to 'wow' Lucien, it should be off the shoulder and strapless." Mattie flipped through the rack of dresses. "Here you go, what about this?"

The one she held up was gorgeous. As she had suggested, it was strapless, cut very low in the back. The silky material of the skirt was full, but not flared so it moved beautifully.

Jean glanced at the size on the tag. "All right, let me try it on," she said.

She slipped into it, and one look in the mirror told her this was the one. The judgement was confirmed when she stepped outside the fitting room to show Mattie, who nodded emphatically.

"Wow! Perfect. Now you'll need to wear something over it. It is January, after all, and you'll be out very late," Mattie pointed out. "Do you have an evening coat or a stole?"

Jean shook her head. "I've never had the need before."

"Well, if you want, I might have something that would work. It's a bit long on me so should be just right for you, and it's black and rather plain, so you can remove it for a big 'reveal' when you get there."

"When I get to be the 'big star' you insist I'm going to be, I should hire you as my personal assistant or publicist," Jean laughed.

"Who knows? Maybe I'll be ready for a change of career," said Mattie. "Now, what about shoes and a purse?"

"I think I'll need both, plus a few other things," said Jean, nodding toward the lingerie department.

"Ah, I see," said Mattie, with a sly look. "I'm afraid you're on your own there. Lucien is like my uncle or older brother, so I'd rather not know any details of that side of his life, thank you very much. I'll wait for you in the accessories area."

"Suit yourself," said Jean. "I'm planning to splurge." And she did. She had a feeling it wouldn't be long at all before she made use of her purchases.


	23. Chapter 23

When Jean got home from shopping with Mattie, she glanced over to Lucien's house and saw that Alice's car was still parked there. The session should be ending soon, which is why they had hurried home. Once again, Mattie had offered to stay with Lucien when Alice left, since Jean had to work that evening.

Not thinking too much of it, except that she rather hoped to see him for a few minutes before leaving for the club, Jean put away her new acquisitions. She decided to throw together a casserole that he or Mattie could warm up in case they didn't feel like making dinner. And Lucien might appreciate some comfort food if his session had left him feeling vulnerable. She thought something like macaroni and cheese would do the trick.

She put it together, complete with a Parmesan and breadcrumb topping, and wrote out simple instructions for heating it through and putting it under the broiler to brown the top. She taped the directions to the casserole dish cover and put it in her refrigerator.

Again she glanced out the window before getting ready for work. Alice's car was still there. Jean was beginning to get concerned that something had happened. It might have been a particularly intense session, and Alice was reluctant to leave him. Jean wondered if Mattie had heard anything, but just as she considered calling, she saw her young friend head over to Lucien's place. It was another half hour before she heard Alice's car leave.

She debated with herself about going over to see him. If Lucien was feeling vulnerable, he might prefer that she not see him in that condition. She finally decided to drop off the casserole with Mattie, thus allowing Lucien privacy, if that's what he preferred. She called Mattie to tell her she'd be at the kitchen door.

Jean loaded her car with what she needed for work, then brought the casserole next door. Mattie was waiting at the door.

"Thank you so much for this. You know how inept I am at cooking, and delivery didn't seem like a very good option tonight. He really doesn't feel like seeing anyone just now."

"I'm glad I could be of help," said Jean. She lowered her voice. "Is Lucien all right?"

"He will be. It was a rough session so it might take a little while, though."

"Please, give him my love and let him know I'm thinking of him. And if he wants me to stop by when I get home, or even in the morning, just text me or call."

"I'll do that. Break a leg, or whatever singers do for luck."

"Thanks," Jean laughed as she waved a hand and headed for her car.

* * *

It still felt strange to Jean, being at the club without Lucien. It wasn't that she felt insecure, just incomplete. She knew the band better now, after moving day, so she trusted them to support her. Except for Lou Dixon, whom she didn't really know. She decided to remedy that immediately, and she went looking for him.

The band was just starting to set up for the evening, and they all greeted her, making jokes about her flying solo. She took the jibes good-naturedly.

"I'm not flying solo, I have all of you, and especially Mister Dixon," she retorted.

"Ooh, _Mister Dixon,_" laughed Terry Reynolds.

"Proper respect for a master of his craft," Cec called out from where he was setting up the bar.

"Exactly," said Jean, as she approached Lou and nodded to him.

"Mrs. Beazley," he said, nodding back.

"Please, call me Jean."

"Proper respect," said Lou, with a glance toward Cec.

She felt herself blush to think someone with his background would grant her such a compliment. "Thank you," she said. "I wanted to thank you for filling in for Lucien on that song."

"You're welcome. I learned a new technique as a result of it, so my pleasure."

"Lucien happened to mention you have a son," said Jean. "Being a working parent isn't easy is it?"

"You're a mother then," said Lou.

"Yes, I have two sons of my own, both grown now."

"Mine is grown, too. Or as grown as he'll ever be," said Lou. "He's developmentally disabled."

"Oh, dear. That must make it difficult."

"Yes, sometimes," Lou agreed, "but more rewarding, too. When his mother abandoned us, I had no idea how I'd manage, but Isaac has always been such a loving boy that all the struggles we had were worth it."

"That's wonderful to hear. I'd love to meet Isaac sometime," said Jean.

"We go out every day, but not to places with many people. Crowds overwhelm him with too much sensory input," Lou explained.

"How about the beach? Does he like the water?"

"Isaac loves to watch the water, but the beaches are too crowded for him."

"You should bring him to our beach," said Jean. "I live in a guest house next door to Lucien in Malibu, right on the water. The beach is usually empty unless the surf is up. You and Isaac are more than welcome to use it."

"Blake has offered in the past, but I wasn't sure if it would cause trouble with his neighbors, especially should Isaac have a meltdown."

"As one of his neighbors, I can tell you that you'll be welcome," Jean assured him. "And if Isaac has a meltdown, you can always bring him inside until he calms down."

"Thank you. I might just do that," said Lou.

"Let me give you my number in case you want to call first to make sure the coast is clear."

* * *

The show that night went smoothly, with Terry and Lou both supporting her very strongly. The number with Lou demonstrated why Lucien (and apparently everyone else) thought so highly of the man's abilities. Jean made a point of calling him out by name to the audience as the song ended.

Upon returning to her dressing room, she immediately checked her phone to see if she'd received a message from Lucien or Mattie, but the only message was from her son Jack, saying he and his girlfriend would be at the club the following week to catch her act. Jean hoped that the fact there was no contact from Lucien meant he was doing better. She would stop over in the morning to see how he was getting on.

She had a restless night, and in the morning as she sat over her coffee, she wondered if she wanted to see Lucien for his sake or her own. Maybe she should wait until he called rather than barging in. And just as she made that decision, he called.

"Good morning, Jean. I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Good morning. No, I was just finishing my coffee. How are you?"

"I'm good. I"d be better for seeing you."

"Hold that thought. I'll be right there," said Jean. Quickly she washed up the breakfast things and headed over.

Upon seeing him, her first thought was that his lovely, golden complexion seemed to have turned almost grey in color. And when he looked at her, there was a haunted quality behind his eyes. She didn't know what had happened, but it had definitely left its mark on him. Without saying a word she put her arms around him. After a brief moment's hesitation, he returned the hug, holding her tightly.

"Thank you," he whispered beside her ear.

"For?"

"For knowing this is exactly what I needed, even before I knew it."

"It wasn't difficult to figure out," she told him. "If you don't mind my saying, you look like you've been through hell."

"It was... difficult, the session," he admitted. "Alice needed me to figure out why my feelings toward my father seemed to be entwined with my time in captivity."

"And did you figure it out?"

"Unfortunately. There was an entire incident that I've been repressing all these years. I finally recalled it, somewhat to my dismay."

"Judging by the look of you, I'd say that's putting it mildly," said Jean. She ran her fingers through his hair in a gentle way that he seemed to find comforting. "Lucien, how is this revelation going to affect your ability to deal with your father? I'm thinking particularly of the gala."

He groaned. "I'd forgotten that was tomorrow night."

"You don't have to go," she pointed out. "If It will just distress you, we can stay home. Make a nice dinner together, put on some music, maybe a dance or two."

"Believe me, that sounds much more inviting, and we'll definitely do that very soon, but I have obligations."

"Forgive my French, but that's bullshit. Your first obligation is to yourself and your mental health. You're financing the event and the scholarships. That's plenty."

"Jean, Jean." He rested his hands on her upper arms. "Alice told me I need to face my father at some point. What better time than when he's on his best behavior in a room full of people he wants to impress? And with you beside me to give me strength, I can do this."

"All right, then, but will you do one thing for me? Talk to Alice to make sure she approves of you doing this so soon after the session?"

He placed his large hands on either side of her face and pulled her close enough to kiss her forehead. "My guardian angel," he murmured just loud enough for her to hear.

* * *

Jean spent the entire day with Lucien until she had to leave for work. He was quiet, listening to music or playing the piano most of the time. She was content just to be near him, providing whatever support she could. He seemed to draw strength from her presence, which was reason enough for her to stay.

Reluctantly she left him when she had to go to the club, but at work, when she saw that Cec was once again sending the video of her performance to Lucien, she took advantage of the feed. She looked directly at Cec's phone. "This one is for my dear friend, Lucien Blake. He'll be back with us soon, I know." And she launched into Doctor John's "Something You Got".

After the show was over, she planned to get home as soon as possible, but there happened to be a party of regular patrons there celebrating a birthday, and so she stayed a little longer to chat with them and offer her best wishes. Consequently, by the time she returned to Malibu she was exhausted and all the lights were out in Lucien's house. Not wishing to disturb him, she went home to her own bed. She slept more soundly than she thought she would and awoke refreshed.

While waiting for any signs of life next door, she made up a batch of French toast. She was just putting it under the broiler to keep it warm when she heard a soft knock at the door. It was Lucien, looking much more himself and wearing a bright smile.

"Good morning," she said as he kissed her on the cheek. She shook her head and pointed to her mouth. With an even brighter smile his lips met hers for a loving kiss.

"It seems I'm not the only one who got a good night's sleep," she observed.

"Good morning, and yes, I slept well. Must have been the song someone sang to me. Thank you, Jean."

"My pleasure. Now sit down. The coffee is ready, and so is breakfast."

Again they spent the day together until it was time to get ready for the gala. Jean noted that Lucien was becoming more nervous as the evening approached. Again she reminded him that he had the option to cancel.

"The people who know you and care about you won't think any less of you if you decide not to do this," she said, rubbing along his bicep. "It really won't matter to them."

"And what about you?" he asked.

"I'm one of those who care about you," she said softly. "Whatever you decide, I'm in your corner."

"Well, then, I think it's past time that I stood up to the old man and stopped letting him have any control over me. If I could do it as a teenager I ought to be able to do it now, don't you think? Besides, I wouldn't want to pass up the chance to see you in all your evening finery." He paused to smile gently. "It will be all right, my dear. I promise."

"If you're sure, then, I'll see you in about an hour ready to go."

"I'll be waiting."

And he was. A car had been sent to pick them up, and when it pulled into the drive, he appeared at her door. Jean had decided to don Mattie's coat to greet him so that he'd get to see her dress only when they arrived at the event.

Once they were in the car, there was no turning back. Jean took Lucien's hand into hers and squeezed it. "This is nice," she said, trying to distract him. "I don't think I've had a car sent for me since my wedding."

"You should get used to it," he told her. "Once you're the big star I know you'll be, this will be a regular occurrence."

"Oh, right," she said dismissively. "So tell me, am I going to need a map tonight to find my way around this house where you grew up?"

"Hardly, but you can always just stay close to me. I'll make sure you don't get lost."

"That's exactly what I was planning to do," she assured him. "It'll be nice to see your mother again. How's she feeling?"

"I'm afraid the winter is never very kind to her. She'll be bright and cheerful tonight, but the evening will take a lot out of her," said Lucien.

"Then we'd better keep an eye on her, don't you think?"

"I always try to urge her to retire when I see her becoming worn out, but she doesn't usually listen."

"Oh? So you come by that stubbornness naturally, then?" asked Jean, raising an eyebrow.

He laughed and brought her hand to his mouth to kiss the back of it. "Touché."

"Nervous or not, you look very handsome in your tuxedo," she told him.

"Thank you, Jean. Mattie tells me I'll be quite taken with your new dress," he replied. He nodded toward her feet and her new stilettos. "I already like the shoes, as long as you can dance in them."

"As many dances as you want," she promised him.

All too soon the car was making its way up the winding roads of Pacific Palisades. As it pulled up to the Blake mansion (Jean already referred to it in her own mind as the House of Horrors in deference to Lucien) and the car doors were being opened for them.

Lucien took her hand as they climbed the carpeted steps to the front door.

"Are you ready for this?" Jean asked him quietly.

"Well, let's find out, shall we?" he responded.

The door was held open for them by an elderly gentleman wearing formal livery. "Good evening, Mister Lucien. It's wonderful to see you here."

"Thank you, Mister Dawson. Jean, this is Mister Lionel Dawson. He's run the household since we moved here from Australia when I was a boy. Mister Dawson, my dear friend Mrs. Jean Beazley."

"A pleasure, Mrs. Beazley. May I take your wrap?"

"Thank you, Mister Dawson. Very nice to meet you," said Jean, unfastening the coat as Dawson helped her out of it. She turned to give Lucien the full effect.

Lucien flashed her a brilliant smile. "Mattie wasn't kidding. Jean, you look beautiful. Absolutely breath-taking."

Exactly the reaction she'd hoped for. She tucked her hand in the crook of his arm as they proceeded through the foyer and down a hallway, presumably to the ballroom.

Jean looked around eagerly as they walked. She couldn't believe this had actually been Lucien's home. Lucien told her where each door led along the way.

As they went along, the sounds of music and conversation grew louder. They passed a small side door to the ballroom.

"That's the one the orchestra uses," he told her, opening it briefly so she could take a peek inside. She immediately spotted a very familiar face, Lou Dixon.

"Yes, I believe I mentioned to you that he plays with the L.A. Phil from time to time, as do many of the musicians here tonight," said Lucien.

"You did tell me that. He just looks much different in this setting, but I guess we do as well," said Jean.

They continued on down the hallway to where a set of beautifully carved double doors opened into the ballroom. Just outside it there was a small table with a stack of elegantly printed programs bearing the heading, "Classical Music for a Cause." She picked one up and ran her eye down the schedule of performers and what each of them would play, hoping some of the music might be familiar to her. Immediately her eye caught on one particular entry:

_Lucien Blake - Artist's choice_

She gasped, causing Lucien to stop and look at her in query. "What is it, Jean?"

"Did you know about this?" she asked him quietly, pointing to the line in question.

"Bloody hell," he growled. "Absolute bloody hell. Damn him!"

"I take it this is your father's doing," said Jean, just as angry as Lucien.

"Yes, it has his fingerprints all over it," said Lucien.

"And he knows about your... issues?"

"Of course he does. This is him wanting to humiliate me, probably because I won't sign a contract to record for him."

"What are you going to do? Could you play something like what you play at the club? It says 'Artist's choice'."

"It also says 'Classical Music'," he reminded her. He closed his eyes, trying to come up with a solution. "I just might be able to make it through some Gershwin. Rhapsody in Blue or An American in Paris. Almost as much jazz as classical. I haven't played either in a very long time, so I'm not sure, though."

"We'll figure something out," she told him. "We've got time. You're scheduled near the end of the bill."

She could see he wasn't the least bit reassured. If she didn't come up with something in a hurry, it was going to be very long evening for both of them.


	24. Chapter 24

Author's Note: Since the last chapter ended on a bit of a cliffhanger, I thought you deserved to receive the next one fairly quickly. Let me take a moment to thank all the kind reviewers, with a special shoutout to the guest reviewers that I can't thank personally. Please know that I appreciate every one of you that take the time to leave a comment.

* * *

Jean kept a tight hold on Lucien's arm as they walked through the ornate doors into the ballroom. She looked around to see if there was anyone she might know in attendance. At the far side of the room she spotted Patrick Tyneman. At least one familiar face, she thought.

She turned to point him out to Lucien, but she saw he was staring at someone else, his eyes narrowed and focused like a bright blue laser. She followed his gaze to the center of the room. There stood Thomas Blake, recognizable by his waxed mustache. He even looked the part of a villain, Jean decided.

As if he felt the intensity of his son's glare, Thomas looked toward the door, and the two men locked gazes.

"Watch this," Lucien murmured, and sure enough, Thomas seemed to squirm and then went scurrying toward his wife. "The coward thinks he can hide behind my mother's skirts."

"He knows you don't want to upset your mother by making a scene in front of her," Jean agreed. Mattie was right - the man was nothing but a bully.

The look in his eyes told Jean Lucien was entirely willing to make a scene, in front of his mother if necessary, but such a spectacle would not only make the newspapers, more importantly it would harm the foundation and all the goodwill it garnered. Now was definitely not the time for it.

"Lucien, can't this wait until later, in private?" she asked gently.

He blinked and slowly came back to himself. "Yes, of course. My apologies, Jean."

"You aren't the one who needs to be apologizing," she assured him. "Now, shouldn't you be mingling with the guests? You're one of the hosts of this event."

He turned to her and offered a gentle smile. "What would I do without you? I'm very happy I have you in my life," he told her. "Let's mingle, then."

They clasped hands and moved into the crowd. Almost immediately they encountered Doug Ashby.

"Good evening, Doug," said Lucien. "I didn't realize you'd be here."

"Lucien, Jean," Doug greeted them. "I'm rather surprised I'm here myself. First time I've been invited. I thought it might be your doing, but obviously it must have been your father, which is even more surprising frankly."

"Doug and Dad are rivals," Lucien explained to Jean. "They've been competing for years over much of the musical talent in the area."

"I see," said Jean. "And is that why you were really at the club that night, Doug? Thinking you might sign Lucien?"

"Don't sell yourself short, Jean," said Doug. "I knew there was no way I could sign Lucien. No, I was there strictly for you."

"What do you mean, no way you could sign Lucien?"

Doug rested a hand on Lucien's shoulder. "This fellow is an underground legend. All the big players in the talent game have tried to sign him at one time or another, but he's stayed true to himself. We used to think it was because his father had exclusive rights, but now we all know Thomas is only interested in him as a classical performer, more fool him."

Lucien seemed uncomfortable with being the topic of conversation. "It's good to see you here, but you don't know why he invited you, Doug?"

"No idea at all, but I thought it would be a chance to see some young talent, hear some good music and enjoy the food." He shrugged.

"Well, then, enjoy yourself," said Lucien, shaking the man's hand.

As they moved away, Lucien muttered, "Bloody hell. That's what he's up to."

Jean raised an eyebrow. "What's going on?"

"He wants me to make a fool of myself in front of Doug Ashby, to make sure I won't have an opportunity to sign on with anyone else. He knows if Doug thinks I'm washed up, everyone else will also think so pretty quickly thereafter. Dad thinks I'll have no choice but to go crawling to him."

"Doug is right about him then," Jean said firmly. "If your father misreads everyone the way he's misread you so completely, how has he been so successful in the business?"

"His sons have always been his blind spot. He's much more astute when it comes to others," said Lucien. "When it comes to people who matter to him."

She could see him beginning to retreat into that dark place in his mind. "Lucien, will you dance with me?" she asked, hoping to distract him.

That brought a slight smile. "It would be my pleasure."

He led her onto the dance floor, and they began to waltz.

Jean allowed herself to just enjoy the moment at first, enjoyed the glamour, the music, and the pleasure of being in Lucien's arms. They glided easily across the floor. He was a wonderful dancer, what with his innate musical nature.

It was while they passed close by the orchestra that the idea came to her. She knew exactly how Lucien was going to avoid the trap his father had set for him. Rather than be humiliated, Lucien was going to shine, just as he should.

She waited until the dance ended and he guided them toward the tables of drinks and hors d'oeuvres. "Lucien, I have an idea how you can perform," she told him. "Stay right here, I'll be back in just a minute."

He didn't look convinced as he watched her walk away from him, so she mouthed the words "Trust me" to him. He nodded in response.

The orchestra was moving around on a short break, and she managed to hail Lou Dixon.

"Mrs. Beazley, Jean, is there something I can do for you?" he asked.

"I hope there's something you can do for Lucien. Do you have your guitar here?"

"It's in my car outside. Why?"

"Is there any chance Lucien could borrow it? He's just learned that he's supposed to perform tonight, and he can't play the piano for reasons I can't get into right now."

She could tell from the look in Lou's eyes that he knew why Lucien couldn't perform on the piano. "I can get my guitar for him when we take our long break before the student performances begin," he told her. "Will that work?"

"That will work perfectly," she said. "Thank you, Lou."

"My pleasure. Sorry, but I have to get back to work now."

"Don't let me keep you. Thanks again."

Jean wore a big smile as she returned to Lucien. "That's all sorted, then," she told him. "You can play Lou's guitar. Maybe that lovely piece I heard you playing in the office, the 'Concierto de Aranjuez'?"

His eyes widened, and then his smile matched hers. "Jean, you're a marvel," he beamed.

She was quite pleased with herself but tried to downplay it. "You're the one that has to perform. And won't your father be surprised?"

Lucien laughed. "Well, he never wanted me to learn the guitar. Seems his instincts were right, it's going to come back to haunt him, isn't it?"

Privately Jean thought the man should be haunted by all manner of things, but she kept that to herself.

And with the weight of that burden lifted from his shoulders, the light that was the true Lucien suddenly appeared. His natural charm shone through as he greeted the guests. Many of them he already knew, and as he introduced them to Jean he would tell her some little personal bit about each of them. Most would seem to take pride in that he recognized them.

The ones he didn't know, he made a point of introducing himself and Jean to them and asked them about any involvement in the foundation. Often they would promise to give him a check before the end of the evening, if they didn't hand him one on the spot.

"Have you ever considered running for office, Lucien?" she asked as he accepted yet another donation. "You'd be a shoo-in."

"But I'd be terrible at the actual job," he told her. "I'm not very good at compromising."

"That might be just what we need," said Jean.

He laughed. "You may be right about that," he admitted, just as the orchestra finished playing and headed for the exit.

Jean caught Lou's eye, and he nodded to her and pointed toward the door.

Lucien continued. "Right now there are some people I think you'll enjoy meeting," he said.

"Oh? Would that be the Kardashians you mentioned?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow.

He chuckled. "It looks like Dad's powers of persuasion don't work on Kardashians. I think you'll find these people are much more talented anyway," he said, leading her toward a group of teenagers. One was a little older than the others and seemed to be in charge.

"These are our scholarship winners who will be performing in a few minutes," he explained. "And this young man is David Hoyle, a previous winner who has volunteered to help them all out tonight, as someone who knows what they're going through. How are we all doing?"

There were some nervous greetings, but most of them seemed rather self-assured for their young age.

David spoke up. "Everything's under control, Mister Blake. They're anxious to get started."

"It shouldn't be long now," Lucien assured them.

David lowered his voice so only Lucien and Jean could hear. "Is your father going to introduce them again this year? I only ask because it seems like he makes everybody more nervous."

"Does he? I'll see what I can do," said Lucien.

Jean looked over to where she'd last seen Thomas Blake and she noticed he was no longer beside his wife. She pointed this out to Lucien. "It might be a good time to greet your mother."

"Indeed," he agreed. "David, and all of you winners, if you'll excuse us, it looks like my mother has been abandoned, and we can't have that."

Jean excused herself as well, and together they went over to see Geneviève. Jean thought the older woman looked incomparably elegant in her black gown with just a hint of gold trim around the neck, sleeves and hem. Her only jewelry was a string of exquisite pearls around her neck and a pair of matching pearl studs at her ears.

Upon spotting her son, Geneviève held her arms wide. Lucien stepped inside them and hugged her. When he released her, Jean had her own turn at a hug from Mrs. Blake.

"You look as beautiful as ever, Maman," Lucien told her.

"You look absolutely lovely," Jean echoed.

"I do still like to get dressed up every now and then," Geneviève admitted. "Now, Lucien, tell me what's going on tonight between you and your father."

"Nothing that need concern you, Maman, especially tonight when you look so well and happy."

She narrowed her eyes, just as Jean had seen Lucien do many times. "I don't believe you for a moment, mon cher, but I'll let you have your secrets, for now anyway. You're right, I am happy tonight. And, Jean, my dear, there's a man over there trying to get your attention."

She pointed toward Lou who was signaling that he had the guitar. At exactly that moment, Thomas Blake stepped up to the microphone and waved everyone to take their seats.

Lucien and Jean again excused themselves.

"Do you want to get the guitar or shall I?" Jean asked.

"Would you mind? I think I'm going to go annoy my father instead."

"Lucien..." Jean warned.

"I won't embarrass you, Jean," he promised, as he headed to the front, toward the microphone.

As she walked toward Lou, Jean kept looking over her shoulder to see what Lucien had in mind. He went directly to his father and took the microphone from him. "I'll handle things from here, Dad," he announced. "Thanks."

Thomas looked shocked but didn't seem to want to challenge his son. He glowered as he went to sit beside Geneviève, while Lucien ignored him completely.

"Is everyone having a good time? I think we owe a round of applause to the incredibly talented musicians who've been entertaining us," he said, leading the applause himself.

When it had died down, he continued, glancing down at the notes his father had left then looking up again. "I also want to thank each and every one of you who've come out this evening to support this foundation, and the young musicians we honor tonight. Someday soon these young people will be filling chairs in orchestras across the country and probably the world. And some of them may even be featured performers in concert halls everywhere.

"Before we hear from the first performer, though, I'd like to thank one of our past winners, Mister David Hoyle, who has just graduated from Juilliard and will soon be joining the renowned Cleveland Symphony Orchestra. David has been mentoring our young musicians tonight. Thank you, David, and congratulations."

Jean thought Lucien was handling this as easily as he did at the club. He seemed to have been born to be in front of an audience, and perhaps he had.

She took the guitar case from Lou and whispered her gratitude. Case in hand, she made her way along the edge of the room, toward the front. She noticed that Geneviève had spotted her, but Thomas was still busy glaring at Lucien. When she reached the front, Jean set the case down near David and pointed to it then to Lucien. David nodded and indicated he'd keep an eye on it for her so Jean could watch the performances.

Lucien introduced the first performer, a petite violinist who looked to be Chinese. She played Mendelssohn's Concerto in E-Minor, a favorite of young violinists, per Lucien's introduction. Jean was certainly no expert in classical music, but she thought the girl was amazing. Apparently Lucien thought so, too, as he praised her and chatted with her for a bit after she finished. She showed him a small plush monkey she kept in her pocket as a good luck charm.

"Can I borrow that later?" he joked, making the girl laugh.

"As long as you give it back when you finish," she said, which made him laugh and the audience laugh, too.

He continued in that vein with the others, and Jean could see that the youngsters seemed to become more relaxed as the program went on, actually beginning to enjoy their performances. Lucien praised each one when they finished and thanked them.

When the last of them was done and had left the stage, Lucien looked down at his notes again then took a deep breath. He nodded to Jean before speaking into the microphone once more.

"So, according to the program, it looks like it's my turn now. If you'll excuse me for just a moment, please."

Jean picked up the case to open it as Lucien approached. He lifted out the instrument and held it up to his ear as he strummed it to be sure of the tuning. Then he gave Jean a quick kiss on the cheek and walked back on stage.

The audience murmured in surprise to see him with the guitar, and Thomas looked positively livid, but Lucien pulled a chair over and adjusted the height of the microphone. "The program says 'Artist's Choice' so I've chosen a particular favorite of mine: the second movement of Joaquin Rodrigo's 'Concierto de Aranjuez'. I trust the orchestra can help me out with this one," he said with a smile in their direction.

Sure enough, one of the clarinetists switched over to an English horn and began the opening bars.

As hauntingly beautiful as Jean had thought the piece was played solely on the guitar, it was even more evocative with an orchestra behind it. Lucien was completely focused on the guitar and on the music itself. To Jean's ear it was perfect, and the audience seemed to agree. They looked mesmerized as he played. When he finished, there was a brief moment of silence before they erupted into thunderous applause.

Jean was applauding wildly herself, but she managed a glance over to see Thomas's reaction. He sat stone-faced in his seat, while Geneviève stood to clap enthusiastically. Lucien bowed to acknowledge the reaction, and he sent a wink toward Jean. A pointed figure in Lou's direction acknowledged his contribution as well.

When the crowd finally began to calm down, Lucien thanked them. "You're very kind," he said, "and as a special reward for being so kind I want to introduce our featured performer this evening, although he really needs no introduction. One of the world's very best violinists, ladies and gentlemen, the incomparable Mister Joshua Bell."

Lucien walked back to Jean and set the guitar down so he could throw his arms around her. "Thank you, Jean. You have saved my evening," he told her.

"Yes, well, I think you did that all by yourself," she returned.

Meanwhile, Mr. Bell had taken the stage. As he waited for the microphone to be adjusted he said, "You're really making me follow _that _performance?"

Lucien grinned and bowed toward him, and Bell returned it before lifting his violin into position and starting to play.


	25. Chapter 25

_Warning: There are some graphic descriptions of torture in this one._

Jean stood with Lucien's arm around her waist as they watched and listened to Joshua Bell's performance. Jean was delighted that Lucien could still enjoy this kind of music that had always been such an important part of his life. When Bell finished his performance with selections from Bernstein's _West Side Story_, Lucien applauded briefly before turning to place Lou's guitar back into its case.

"I'll make sure this gets back to Lou," Jean told him. "I think you need to get out on stage to close out the evening."

"Thank you, my dear," he told her. "I'll come back for you."

As she turned around to look for Lou she nearly ran into Patrick Tyneman.

"Lucien, I have the final fund-raising totals," he announced. "It's been a good night for the Foundation."

"That's what I like to hear," said Lucien, taking the tally sheet from him. "Thank you, Patrick."

The applause was dying down, and Bell left the stage after a final bow.

Lucien thanked him as they passed each other. When he reached the microphone he said, "The great Joshua Bell, ladies and gentlemen." After leading another round of applause for him, Lucien continued. "Before our evening comes to an end, I'm pleased to announce that we've raised a record amount tonight for the Blake Foundation, thanks to the generosity of all of you. Thank you for allowing us to provide assistance to even more young people in the year ahead. I hope you've all enjoyed yourselves this evening. A special thank you to our outstanding young performers, and we hope you'll all join us again next year. Good night and safe home."

As the guests began to filter out and the orchestra began to pack up their instruments, Jean made her way back to where Lou was putting his bass into its protective sleeve. He paused to take the guitar from her.

"Lucien is very grateful for the loan," she told him.

"My pleasure, especially when I got to hear that performance," said Lou. "Good night, Mrs. Beazley."

"Good night, Lou, and remember what I said about the beach."

When she got back to where she'd left Lucien, Jean saw he was talking with Patrick. She hung back, not wishing to intrude, but Lucien held out a hand for her to join them. "We were just talking Foundation business," he explained. "Patrick, has my father seen these totals yet?"

"Not yet. I was going to do that next."

"Why don't you let me do it?" Lucien said, a touch too casually, Jean thought.

"Lucien," Patrick warned. "Do you think that's a good idea, in light of what he pulled on you?"

"That's exactly why it's a good idea," said Lucien, much less casually. "I'm going to insist on taking a more active role in how we run things like this. I won't allow him to use Foundation events to further his petty vendettas."

"There are still donors wandering around. You wouldn't want them to be a party to a blowup between you and Thomas," said Patrick.

"Oh, don't worry about that. I can guarantee you he's retreated to his study. He thinks he can use that room to intimidate me, but I'm not twelve years old any more."

"If you insist on doing this right now, then I'm going to insist on being there," said Patrick.

Jean spoke up. "I think that's an excellent idea, Patrick."

"You should be there as well, Mrs. Beazley," said Patrick firmly.

Recalling that Mattie warned her about letting Lucien be alone with his father, Jean said, "I agree, as long as Lucien has no objection."

"When have I ever objected to your company?" Lucien asked, his eyes twinkling. He really was up for a fight with the senior Blake, Jean could tell.

"Will your father think we're ganging up on him?" she asked.

"I don't care if he does," Lucien said firmly. "Let's go find him."

Jean was concerned that in his present mood of defiance he might say something he would later regret. She touched his arm. "Maybe you should take a deep breath first," she suggested. "If you go in there already upset, won't it be easier for him to get to you? Push your buttons?"

"This is a very smart woman, Lucien," said Patrick. "You should listen to her."

"I do, and I know," said Lucien, smiling at her. As she had suggested, he paused a moment to center himself. Jean thought he might be employing the breathing technique Alice had given him. "All right now. We'd better go before he figures out that if he goes to bed we'll be less likely to follow him there."

He threaded his fingers through Jean's, and hand in hand they went hunting for the old bear, with Patrick trailing behind. Jean was both curious and apprehensive about meeting the man at last. Apprehensive only on Lucien's behalf, not about anything he might try on her. Since Lucien had assured her his father's opinion meant nothing to him, that meant the older man had no power over her personally. That meant she could fight him tooth and nail if he tried to bully Lucien.

Just outside the ballroom they encountered Dawson, who was overseeing the initial stages of the cleanup. Lucien addressed him.

"Mister Dawson, everything was up to your usual high standards tonight. Thank you."

"My pleasure, Mister Lucien," he said nodding to acknowledge Jean and Patrick.

"I don't suppose you know where I can find my father? I have the details of tonight's donations to deliver to him."

"I believe Mister and Mrs. Blake are both in the study enjoying a nightcap," said Dawson.

"Thank you, and please deliver my thanks to the entire staff for a job well done."

"I'll do that, sir."

Lucien led the way to the opposite side of the house, near the back. Despite the situation, Jean had to marvel at the opulence of the place, and that Lucien had actually grown up here. This was more like a museum, though. She thought she actually preferred his present home with its much more functional and welcoming décor.

At the rear of the house they approached a solid, closed door. They could hear the faint sound of Wagner's music coming from inside the room.

"Will he open the door to you?" Jean whispered.

"He will if he thinks it's Dawson. Tommy and I used to practice Dawson's knock. He'd fall for it every time," said Lucien with a devious glint in his eye. "Watch this."

He rapped three times in quick succession.

"Yes, Dawson, what is it?" came the voice from the other side of the door.

Still holding Jean's hand, a bit more tightly now, Lucien cracked open the door and led the way inside. "Not Dawson, I'm afraid, Dad," he announced.

Thomas and Geneviève were sitting in a pair of upholstered chairs flanking a fieldstone fireplace with a fire just coming into full flame. Geneviève turned toward them, but Thomas quickly rose to his feet to face his son.

Studying him now that she was this close to him, Jean could see little of Lucien in the man. They both had blue eyes, but where Lucien's were vibrant and warm, Thomas's appeared cold and calculating. The strong jawline and cheekbones that gave Lucien's visage such character were considerably less defined on Thomas, and his mustache served to emphasize that. The only resemblance at all was perhaps in the strong chin of each man, especially at this moment as they squared off against each other.

"Lucien." Only the single word from the older man.

"Hello, Dad. Have you been avoiding me this evening?"

Thomas huffed. "I thought _you _were avoiding _me,_ as usual."

"I met you up on stage, didn't I?" Lucien challenged him.

"Just what did you think you were doing, grabbing the microphone like that? You really can't help yourself, can you? Tonight was supposed to be about those kids."

"And that's exactly why I took the microphone," said Lucien, refusing to back down under his glare. "You were making them more nervous, something I can relate to. I wanted to make this evening fun for them."

"This night wasn't supposed to be about fun. Music is a serious business."

"And that's the whole problem in a nutshell," said Lucien, spreading his arms wide. "When you're fifteen years old music shouldn't be a business. It should be a passion, or a hobby, or a joy. Because if you aren't allowed to enjoy it when you're fifteen, you'll never see it as anything but a job, and that will come through in every single performance."

"Speaking of performances, just what were you trying to pull with that guitar tonight? That was a disgrace! Those people out there paid a lot of money to hear you play the piano, not the _guitar_."

He said it as though 'guitar' was a dirty word, Jean thought.

"You know very well why I didn't play the piano," said Lucien. "You knew when you put my name in the program without telling me ahead of time. You knew when you sent Jock Clement to heckle me a few weeks ago. And you knew when you invited Doug Ashby here tonight, hoping I'd fall apart in front of him."

"Yes, because I know just how weak you are," Thomas spat.

Geneviève and Jean both gasped at that. Jean was going to defend Lucien, but Geneviève spoke first. "Thomas, that's not fair."

"So he got roughed up a little a long time ago. Is he going to cry about it the rest of his life?" Thomas said, his face twisted with disdain.

"Roughed up a little? That's what you think it was?" Lucien was nearly incredulous.

He undid his bow tie and stuffed it in a pocket before removing his jacket, and then his shirt so quickly that the studs were scattered across the thick carpet. Then he turned to reveal the scars that covered nearly his entire back.

Jean had known they were there, had felt them through his shirt, but the sight of them was devastating. She closed her eyes in horror to think of what it must have been like for him when they were inflicted.

"You call this 'roughed up a little'?" he continued. "If we didn't have ladies present I could show you the marks that were left where they attached electrodes to my genitals. And we won't even mention the psychological torture they inflicted." He pulled his shirt back on and began to button it as he continued.

"But you knew most of that already, didn't you, Dad? You knew about it because they sent you a tape of them torturing me. And why did they do that? Because you refused to pay them to stop it."

This time Patrick's gasp joined that of the two women.

"What's this nonsense?" Thomas said dismissively, but the fear in his eyes told another story. He glanced nervously at Geneviève.

Lucien was relentless. "All these years I couldn't understand why you seemed to be mixed in with my impressions from that time. Finally the one memory I've been repressing all the while came back to me. My captors had offered to release me in exchange for a payment from you. And you refused!"

"Thomas, no!" Geneviève said sharply, touching her husband's arm.

He waved Lucien's accusation aside. "That's rubbish. They were toying with you," said Thomas.

Lucien took a step closer. "It's not rubbish. They taped the phone call. You, my dear father, refused to pay two million dollars for your son's life! It was your voice saying I wasn't worth the price they were asking."

Geneviève was openly crying while Jean could feel the tears running down her own cheeks. This knowledge was what Lucien had been living with since his last session. This was what had left him so off-balance.

Thomas tried to defend himself. "They caught me at a bad time. I didn't have the money."

"You could have taken a mortgage on this... place," Lucien pointed out. "You could have sold some stock. You could have..."

Patrick spoke up. "You could have come to me. I would have gotten you the money in a heartbeat."

"How much money did you make off of me all those years?" Lucien demanded. "You wouldn't have been able to keep this house if not for my touring and recording, but when it came down to it, this place was more important to you than I was."

No wonder he called it the House of Horrors, thought Jean.

"This is our home. Your mother..."

Geneviève spoke sharply. "Don't you dare say I was the reason. I would have happily lived in a tent if it could have saved my son from going through that. You never told me any of this. Why?"

"You were so upset by the whole affair. I didn't want to put you through any more."

"But you could have put an end to it, and you didn't," she accused.

"How was I to know if they'd even keep their word to release him?"

"And you couldn't be bothered to take that chance, could you?" asked Lucien. "As it happens, I got to know them very well. They would have kept their word. They were counting on that money. When they didn't get it, they took their disappointment out on me."

Geneviève went to her son and put her arms around him. She spoke to him softly in French. Jean couldn't understand the words, but she understood the sentiment. The feelings of a mother who thinks she's failed her son.

Hugging her back, Lucien said, "I know, _Maman_. It's all right."

With Geneviève's gesture, all the bluster seemed to deflate from Thomas. He turned his back to stare into the flames of the fireplace. His capitulation also seemed to have taken away some of Lucien's anger. His voice was much softer as he said, "Is that all I ever meant to you, Dad? The money and the power you got from my talent? Tommy once warned me about that. He said you'd throw me away, too, if I stopped being your meal ticket."

"Tommy said a lot of things," Thomas began.

Lucien's anger flared once more. He took a threatening step toward his father, both hands clenched into fists. "Don't you dare! Don't you even say his name in my presence. You forfeited that right when you disowned him."

"All right, all right," said Thomas, holding up his hands in capitulation. "I know I've made some mistakes as a father, toward both you and your brother. I'm sorry. Is that what you want to hear? I'm sorry. But look at you. You haven't done so badly for yourself."

"Yes, I've managed to make a life for myself in spite of you," said Lucien bitterly. "I lost everything, _everything,_ because of what those people did to me after you refused to pay their ransom. I lost my health. I lost my wife. I lost my daughter. And I lost my music. All I had was money, and it meant nothing without those other things. Something you might learn yourself some day. But at least I was also lucky enough to have a few friends who helped me claw my way back." He looked to Patrick, acknowledging his support.

"I managed to make a life for myself, and now I have this brilliant woman in my life, who is much more than I deserve. So, yes, in spite of you I've made a life. If you think that lets you off the hook, think again, Dad."

Jean moved close enough to thread her fingers through his in solidarity. She had never seen him like this.

"So where do we go from here?" Thomas sighed. He stepped closer to Geneviève, but she would not throw him a lifeline. Instead she moved toward Lucien, and Thomas's shoulders slumped in defeat.

Lucien gathered himself, regaining his composure. "From now on, I'm taking a more active role in the Foundation."

That caught Thomas's attention. "Why? All these years you've been content to just throw money at it."

"When you were using it as a vehicle to cherrypick the finest of these kids so you could convince them to sign with you, I looked the other way. I thought they were getting recording contracts that they might never have gotten otherwise, or at least that's what I told myself. But what you did tonight, trying to sabotage any chance I might have to sign with Doug Ashby, that made me see just how far you'd go to get what you wanted. And you know what the irony is? It was all for nothing. I had no intention of signing with Doug, and he knew it. Seems you were the only one who didn't know, so your machinations were pointless." He turned to his friend. "Patrick, could you handle the transition, please? I'll be in touch tomorrow to let you know what I have in mind."

"Certainly," Patrick nodded.

"Thank you. And on that note, we'll take our leave. Good night, _Maman._ I'm sorry if all of this has upset you." He kissed Geneviève's cheek.

She reached up to lay a hand on his cheek and again spoke softly in French.

"Nothing to forgive you for," he told her, taking her hand and kissing the palm. He then turned to leave without speaking another word to Thomas.

Jean was a bit dazed by the whole thing. She managed to bid good night to Geneviève and followed Lucien from the room as Patrick took his leave of both of the older Blakes.

When they were well away from the study, Jean stopped, making Lucien do the same. "How are you?" she asked him.

"Fantastic," he said, his eyes shining. "I feel like I've just shed twenty-five years' worth of baggage. How about you?"

"If you're fantastic, then so am I," she assured him.

"Good, because I have plans for the rest of this evening. Let's go home, shall we?"

Jean couldn't help the broad smile that spread across her face. "Yes, let's."


	26. Chapter 26

In the car on the way home from the gala, Lucien was so full of adrenaline that he was practically vibrating with energy. His eyes sparkled, and his smile was brilliant. He had carried the weight of his father's domination for so long that the act of throwing it off his shoulders was positively liberating. Jean rejoiced to see him like this.

He took her face between his wide hands so he could look her squarely in the eyes. "Thank you, my dear Jean," he told her.

"You're welcome, but you did it all by yourself. I barely even spoke," she reminded him.

"You gave me the will and the courage to face him down, and for that I'll always be grateful."

Jean would have shaken her head if he wasn't holding it so tenderly. "I'm very proud of you," she told him.

He laughed. "I'm quite proud of me, too," he admitted.

His gaze moved down to her lips, and she leaned toward him. The kiss began slowly, but the energy between them ramped it up quickly until his tongue was tangled with hers and his arms were around her. She threaded her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, holding him against her.

She felt as though she couldn't get enough of the taste of him. The anxiety and drama of the evening evaporated, replaced by joy, excitement and hunger for this beautiful, talented, generous man who wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

Jean would have been content to exchange kisses with Lucien for hours, but this late at night the ride home was a short one by Los Angeles standards. Much sooner than she would have liked, the car slowed and pulled into Lucien's driveway.

He pulled back from her, but the longing in his eyes told her all she needed to know.

"Would you like to..." he began.

She placed a finger over his lips and nodded. "I'd like to very much," she whispered. "Just let me run home and pick up a few things. I won't be long."

His brilliant smile lit up the night. "I'll be waiting," he promised.

He helped her from the car, and she hurried over to her place. As she was unlocking the door, she glanced back to see him tipping the driver and chatting with the man. That was her Lucien. He saw her looking his way, and he flashed her a smile as he tapped his fingers over his heart.

As rapidly as she could, Jean changed out of her long dress, not wanting to have to put it on again for the walk home in the morning (or afternoon, or whenever), and slipped into a sweater and slacks. She was very glad she'd bought the sexy new lingerie and worn it beneath her gown. After dressing, she threw her robe, hairbrush, toothbrush, fresh underthings, and some makeup and toiletries into an overnight bag. She touched up her lipstick, although knowing it wouldn't stay on for long, and refreshed her perfume. She removed the clips that had held her hair in place, letting it fall in soft curls to frame her face. Satisfied with her appearance, especially the smile of anticipation she wore, she picked up her bag and headed for her rendezvous with the man she loved.

She saw him standing on the porch, looking out at the ocean, arms crossed over his broad chest. He had removed his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his still-crisp white shirt. She thought he might just be the most beautiful man she'd ever seen, and in a city where every waiter and barista was an aspiring actor or model, that was saying quite a lot.

He glanced over and spotted her. His eyes and teeth both gleamed in the moonlight as he held out a hand to her, which she accepted. She moved to stand at his side, and for a long moment they stood watching the waves break upon the sandy beach, their fingers entwined.

Then he turned to kiss her again, a promise of things to come. He said, "Do you want anything? Food, a nightcap?"

She shook her head. "Just you, Lucien."

"That's very convenient. I want you, too," he said, practically growling.

He led her inside, and after a quick glance to be sure Scout was safely in her bed, he locked the door and went toward the stairs. He let her precede him upwards. She could feel her heart racing with excitement and anticipation.

When she stood on the top step, she paused and turned. For once their heads were nearly on a level as she leaned forward to take his face between her hands and kiss him. His hands rested on her hips, but slowly they moved upwards, taking the bottom edge of her sweater with them. He broke the kiss, his eyes meeting hers for permission to continue. She nodded and quickly resumed the kiss until they had to break it so he could lift the sweater over her head.

He held onto the piece of clothing and gazed at her and the lacy satin bra she wore. "You are so beautiful," he said breathily before he nodded toward his bedroom. "Shall we?"

She took his hand again, and together they moved into the bedroom.

When they stood beside his bed, she faced him and began to unbutton his shirt. It was then she realized he had donned an undershirt beneath it. "What's this?" she asked, tugging on the soft cotton.

He avoided her gaze. "You've seen my back, and I know how off putting it can be. I thought you might prefer not to be reminded. I can leave this on if you'd prefer," he offered.

She arched an eyebrow. "Only if you want me to leave my bra on, and I doubt either of us really wants that."

He laughed, and the awkwardness ended just that quickly. He practically tore off the offending tee shirt while she reached back to unclasp her bra. They kissed again, this time with their hands caressing and exploring each other. She smoothed her hands over the solid muscles of his arms and shoulders as she felt his fingers that could coax such beautiful music from the piano and guitar now doing the same to her. Her body was thrumming with delight even before he swept the bedclothes aside and laid her down with such tenderness that she could only cling to him in longing. Moments later they were both naked, and she reached up to pull him down and wrap herself around him.

The combination of strength and gentleness with which he made love sent her over the edge time and again before he finally allowed his own passionate release. She held him tight against her, not wanting the moment to ever end.

As he came back to himself, he kissed her before wrapping his arms around her and rolling over so that he was on his back and holding her in his arms. She kissed his broad chest before resting her head against it, wondering if she'd ever felt so complete, so content, in her whole life.

He moved so that his cheek met the top of her head and whispered, "I love you, Jean Beazley."

She looked up to meet his eyes, and any doubts that he might be just saying that in the haze of afterglow were dispelled by the adoration she saw shining there. "I love you, too, Lucien Blake," she said, with no hesitation. It felt liberating to say it so openly, knowing he would never use it against her. For the first time in a very long time she felt that a relationship with a man had made her stronger, not more vulnerable.

In her joy at that realization, she placed a kiss to his sternum, then began to kiss her way upwards. When she reached his collarbone, he grew impatient. He placed a hand under her chin and directed her up so he could capture her mouth with his own. Her passion for him quickly rose again, and she could feel his rising as well.

They made love once more until they were both exhausted and sated, then again he gathered her into his arms. Moments later she was asleep.

She awoke just as dawn was breaking to find that Lucien had left the bed. She spotted him sitting out on the balcony, wrapped in a beautiful robe with a Chinese motif. He was staring out at the ocean once more. Jean donned her own robe and went out to make sure he was all right.

She opened the door, startling him from whatever reverie had captured him. "Lucien?" she said softly.

He turned his head toward her and smiled. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"No need to apologize. I just wanted to check on you."

"I'm fine," he insisted. "I don't sleep much, I'm afraid. I was just... processing, I suppose. It's been an eventful few hours."

"Do you regret anything that happened?" She realized she was holding her breath as she awaited his answer.

"Certainly nothing between you and me," he assured her. "That was perfect, my dear. Actually nothing at all, except maybe my mother having to witness my outburst."

She moved beside his chair and leaned down to wrap her arms around his shoulders. "Don't you think she would want to know the truth? She may be getting frail of body, but her mind and her heart are still healthy. If she has the facts, she can make up her own mind about what happened."

"I suppose you're right. You usually are."

She smiled and kissed the top of his head. "Now, is there anything else? If not, please come back to bed."

"I'd be a fool not to," he said, taking her hand.

Neither of them was quite up to another round of love making so soon, but Jean was more than content to be held by Lucien and to fall asleep in his arms yet again.

When she woke the next time, Jean was disappointed to find the place beside her empty once more. She loved to start her morning with a cuddle (or more) and some conversation. She supposed, though, that if Lucien's greatest fault was being an early riser, she could live with that. And maybe over time she could convince him of the benefits of staying abed a bit longer.

She rolled over and spotted a tray on the bedside table. Sitting up, she saw it contained a pot of coffee, a plate of croissants, a bud vase with a single red rose, and a note. No wonder he'd gotten up early - the man had been busy.

She opened the note:

_My dearest Jean,_

_Thank you for a memorable night. Take your time waking up. I'm down in the music room if you need me._

_Xoxoxox,_

_-L-_

"Oh, I need you," Jean murmured, as she poured herself a cup of coffee and nibbled on the crusty tip of a pastry. Croissants might be very romantic, but their flakiness made them a questionable choice for eating in bed, she decided. Too many crumbs. The coffee, however, was perfect, just the way she liked it.

She sipped it contentedly as she reflected on the previous night. It certainly hadn't disappointed her in any way. The glamour of the gala, the drama of its aftermath, and the romantic perfection of their joining, at last. Thoughts of the latter made her eager to see him.

She got out of bed, grabbed her overnight bag, and headed for his bathroom and a quick shower. After which, she dressed and went seeking him out.

As soon as she opened the bedroom door she could hear piano music drifting up the stairs. Beautiful music, of course, since it was Lucien playing, but much more upbeat than his usual choices. It put a smile on her face as she hurried down to join him.

His own smile with which he greeted her made her heart catch in her throat. He stood and walked toward her, his arms held wide to embrace her. "Good morning," he said brightly before kissing her.

"It is now," she told him. "I missed waking up with you."

"I'm sorry. I was so filled with happiness that I couldn't contain it all, and I was afraid I'd wake you. You were sleeping so peacefully."

"Next time, feel free to wake me," she told him.

He grinned at the thought of a next time. "I'll remember that."

"Please don't let me interrupt your playing," she urged, tugging his hand as she led him back to the piano.

"I needed to let out my feelings," he explained. "Beethoven's 'Ode to Joy' is out of the question unfortunately, so this will have to suffice."

He started to play and sing the Ray Charles classic 'Hallelujah I Love Her So'.

Sitting on the bench beside him, Jean laughed in delight and joined him. They traded quick kisses each time they finished the chorus, and when the song ended, they melted into a much longer, more intense kiss.

It might have gone much farther, but they were interrupted by the tone of his phone signaling a call. He sighed an apology and pulled it out of his pocket to glance at the screen, then frowned. "It's Dawson," he told her.

The conversation was terse, and when he ended it, Lucien explained. "It seems my mother moved out of the house first thing this morning. Dawson is concerned, thought she might have come here."

Jean gasped. "Where would she go? Lucien, you should find her. She'll need you."

"Yes, I know."


	27. Chapter 27

"Do you know where she would have gone?" Jean asked Lucien as they sped south along the Pacific Coast Highway. He'd tried to call his mother twice, but her phone had rung several times before directing the calls to voicemail. Now they were going to look for her.

"I have an idea," said Lucien. "When we first moved here from Australia we stayed in the Chateau Marmont while the house was being finished. She's always talked about how much she liked the place, so I suspect she may have gone there. When she left home it was too late to go visit any of her friends."

Jean touched his hand where it clenched the steering wheel tightly. "We'll find her, and I'm sure she's fine, but don't you think you should slow down, Lucien? You know how the police around here would love to find a reason to pull you over. That won't help your mother at all."

"Yes, of course," said Lucien, and he did slow the car. "Thank you, Jean."

"What exactly did Mister Dawson tell you?"

"He said it appears she left about an hour after we did. Mister Dawson didn't see her go himself, but one of the cleaning people told him she left in a taxi carrying a small bag. It seems Dad has been holed up in the study ever since," said Lucien.

"So you think they argued after we left, and then she walked out?" asked Jean.

"That seems the most likely scenario," said Lucien. "The worrying part of it all is it seems she didn't take any of her medications with her when she went. By now she has to be in pain."

"Your father wouldn't have...?"

"Hurt her physically?" Lucien shook his head. "That's never been his style with any of us. He's always preferred psychological abuse." He paused and said, almost under his breath, "And he knows what I'd do to him if he ever laid a hand on her."

Jean stared. She knew he'd been a soldier, and he'd had a great deal of violence inflicted on him, but she'd never heard him utter a violent word against anyone before. She had a feeling he'd be much more apt to defend those he loved than to defend himself.

"So," he continued, "we'll stop by the house to pick up her medications first, then check out the Marmont, see if she's there."

"And if she isn't?"

"I'll worry about that after," said Lucien.

"Could we call there, see if she's registered?"

He shook his head. "They have so many celebrities as regular guests that they won't give out information over the phone. My daughter stayed there when she had a concert here in town, and they wouldn't even put me through to her until I gave them the room number for her bungalow."

Jean reflected that these were the kinds of things she never would have known, never really having much contact with celebrities before. It was almost as if she and Lucien had grown up on separate planets, their upbringing had been so vastly different. And yet somehow they just fit together so well.

She had a thought. "If they value the privacy of their guests so highly, will they even tell us if she's staying there when we show up?"

"I'll show them the prescription bottles with her name on them if I have to," said Lucien, "but I think we can get them to call her room if she's there."

Jean nodded. That made sense.

The car climbed the hills of Pacific Palisades and pulled up in front of the Blake mansion. Jean was relieved to see Mister Dawson was waiting for them. There would be no confrontation between Lucien and Thomas today. Dawson handed Lucien a bag with Geneviève's medications and also her phone which she seemed to have forgotten in her hurry to get away.

"Please, sir, could you let me know if you find her? If she's all right?" Dawson asked.

"Yes, of course," said Lucien. "How is my father doing?"

Dawson paused. Jean could see him wondering how much to say. She suspected the man was aware of what had happened the previous night, but if he knew Lucien at all, he also knew that there was genuine concern behind the question.

"He's not doing very well," Dawson finally admitted. "To be honest, I think he's somewhat lost without Mrs. Blake."

"Yes, I expect he is," said Lucien, but there was no trace of gloating in his words. "Right, then I'd better find her so we all know she's safe. Thank you, Mister Dawson."

"Good luck, sir," said Dawson.

They continued on to the Chateau Marmont. Jean knew of the place, of course, it being a Hollywood landmark as well as the place where John Belushi died. She had driven past the place many times where it sat overlooking Sunset Boulevard, but she'd never seen the inside except in movies like _LaLaLand_ and _A Star is Born_. She was reminded once again of all the ways her life had changed since she and Lucien had gotten together.

They parked the car and entered the hotel that looked more like a gothic castle. Jean looked around somewhat eagerly, and was a bit disappointed. It all looked somewhat shabby until she peered more closely to realize much of the furniture was probably comprised of antiques.

On a mission, Lucien strode through the deeply arched corridor without paying much attention to his surroundings. Once he reached the front desk and explained that he had brought his mother's medication and phone (without showing any trace of doubt whether she was even staying there) the attendant rang her room, then directed them how to reach her bungalow.

On the way there they passed through the beautiful pool area, and Jean wondered if that man seated at an umbrella table was really Keanu Reeves. She thought Lucien was totally oblivious to it all until he leaned over and said softly, "Yes, that's who you think it is."

Jean smiled at him and squeezed his hand.

Geneviève's Spanish-style bungalow was the last one in a row of four, and Lucien rapped gently on the door.

"It's open. Come in, mon petit," called Geneviève's voice.

Jean and Lucien stared at each other. Was it safe for her to leave the door unlocked, an elderly woman alone?

Lucien held the door for Jean and followed her inside. They found Geneviève sitting in an upholstered brocade armchair facing the door.

Immediately Lucien went down on one knee beside her. "Maman, are you all right?" he said softly.

She tried to smile at him. "I wasn't very smart, cheri. I left without my medicine."

"I have it right here," he told her, holding up the bag.

"I'll get some water," Jean said, going to the little kitchenette area. She found a small bottle of water in the refrigerator and brought it out to Geneviève.

When the older woman had swallowed the pills she leaned back and closed her eyes.

"They'll take a few minutes to work," Lucien said as he held her hand.

Jean sat on the closest chair and waited. Eventually Geneviève opened her eyes and flexed her fingers.

"Better?" asked Lucien.

"Yes, thank you," she said.

He rose to sit on the arm of her chair. "When you decided to leave, why didn't you come to me?" he asked her gently.

She sighed, glancing from Lucien to Jean. "I didn't want to be in the way. I saw exactly how you looked at each other last night."

Jean couldn't help but feel a bit guilty, and Geneviève seemed to notice. "No, my dear," she said quickly. "There is nothing I've wanted more in my life than for my dearest Lucien to find a woman like you to make him happy."

"And she does make me happy," said Lucien. "But, Maman, it would also make me happy if you would agree to come home with me. I'll only worry about you being here on your own."

"You don't need me around," Geneviève insisted.

"What about this," said Jean, "you can stay in my house for now and I'll stay with Lucien, if he doesn't mind."

From the big smile on his face, both women could tell that he didn't mind in the least.

"We would be right next door if you need anything," Lucien pointed out. "We'd know you were all right, and you could join us for meals, if you'd like."

Geneviève seemed to consider it. "Are you sure?" she finally asked Jean.

Jean smiled at the older woman. "I'm sure I'd be worried if you didn't," she said.

"We can't have that," said Geneviève.

"Splendid," said Lucien. "Jean, my dear, would you mind helping my mother gather her belongings while I settle up the bill?"

"Of course," said Jean.

"Just a few toiletries," said Geneviève after Lucien had left the room. "I didn't feel up to unpacking anything else. Please don't tell Lucien. He worries."

"Is there anything you need? Anything I can do to make you more comfortable?" asked Jean.

"I'm afraid not, but thank you, my dear. Just tell me, is Lucien all right?"

"I think he's feeling a bit guilty. He never meant to come between you and his father."

"He didn't. It was Thomas that did that."

"That wouldn't stop Lucien from feeling guilty," Jean pointed out gently.

"No, of course not. He still feels guilty about his brother, although he has no reason to."

Jean wanted to ask Geneviève more about Tommy, but before she could figure out how to do it without sounding as if she were accusing the older woman, Lucien returned.

"Shall we?" he asked, holding the door open.

Jean pantomimed that she would take Geneviève's bag so that he could help his mother walk out to the car. She walked on Geneviève's opposite side from Lucien, in case more support was needed.

As they walked slowly along the open-sided corridor with its beautiful arched ceiling, Jean saw that Lucien was smiling. Perhaps a pleasant memory for a change?

"I was remembering when we stayed at this place," he explained at her questioning look. "Tommy and I used to throw a football to each other along here."

"Didn't the other patrons mind?" Jean asked, glancing at the people seated at tables just outside."

"They used to cheer us on," Lucien recalled. "Australian football was just becoming known here in the States - the first all-sports channels had just started up and they showed it quite often. I remember when Tommy made a diving catch of the ball, and everyone clapped."

He smiled down at his mother, who returned it somewhat wistfully. "I often think that the months we lived here were the last time we were happy, a real family."

"We did like it here, Tommy and I. We used to go exploring all the time, right here in the hotel. Some of the things we saw probably weren't appropriate for boys our age, but at least we had a sense of freedom here we never felt once we moved into the house."

"Sometimes I detest that house," Geneviève said fiercely. "I know you do as well."

Jean wondered if she knew Lucien's nickname for the place.

"Tommy changed when we moved there," said Lucien. "He missed Ballarat much more than I did."

"He missed you, too, once you started to tour," said Geneviève.

"I can't help but wonder if we would have all been better off had I never started playing the piano. Maybe we'd still be a real family."

"Non, mon petit," Geneviève said quickly. "It wasn't your fault. None of it." She tugged on his arm until he met her eyes. "It was my fault, and your father's, never yours. You were a boy. You had a gift, and you brought so much happiness to people. You still do. Your father took advantage of you, and I looked the other way, not wanting to see it for my own reasons."

"And you loved Dad. He took advantage of that, too," Lucien told her. "He used to say he was shielding you, but I think he was only protecting himself, to prevent exactly what's happened."

"A number of things will have to change, if he wants to fix matters," said Geneviève.

"You should know that I called Dawson to let him know you were safe. He was very worried about you. I'm sure he'll pass it on to Dad."

"No reason for either of them to worry. I'm in very good hands," Geneviève said, squeezing Lucien's arm and smiling at Jean.

They reached the car, and Lucien helped her in and stowed her bag before opening the door for Jean.

"Now, then, is there anything you need? We can stop on the way home," he explained.

Genevieve hesitated. "I'm supposed to eat when I take my medicine," she admitted.

"Then we'll stop at the first place we see," said Lucien. He glanced at his mother and grinned. "How long since you've had a taco?" To Jean, he said, "Dad used to have a fit when she would take Tommy and me to Taco Bell, but she had just as many tacos as we did."

"Really? Taco Bell?" said Jean smiling. "I used to do the same with my boys."

"We could find a real Mexican restaurant if you prefer," said Lucien.

Geneviève shook her head. "I think I'd like to see if the ones there are as good as I remember."

"Then Taco Bell it is, if that's all right with you, Jean?"

"I think I'd like to see if they're as good as I remember, too," Jean said.

Deciding tacos were too messy to eat in the car, they went inside the restaurant. Once they were settled at a table with a tray of food (and Jean noted that Lucien had gotten a selection of chicken items for her), she wanted to know more about Lucien's childhood, the years before he began touring.

Lucien glanced at his mother. "There are some things I don't suppose Maman wants to know," he said. "We got up to no good more times than I can count, but most of it was harmless. Tommy looked after both of us. He made me brave." His eyes glazed over as he thought back. "I was a wimpy kid, until Tommy ... well, Tommy was strong enough for both of us."

"What do you mean?" asked Jean. "What did he do?"

"I knew he was always looking out for me. Without him I'd never have dared to do many of the things I tried. For instance, I wouldn't have learned to surf." He explained, "We used to climb down the cliffs to go to the beach. At first it was to watch the fishermen, but one day we saw the surfers, and we were fascinated. From then on every day that it was windy we'd be there to watch. After a while the surfers started to talk to us when they came in."

Having two sons of her own, Jean knew where this was going. "How old were you then?"

"Nine or ten, I think. Anyway, one day they asked us if we wanted to try it. I was a bit hesitant, but Tommy was all for it. I couldn't very well let him go alone, of course."

Geneviève looked horrified, so Lucien rested his hand over hers. "It was perfectly safe. They knew what they were doing. They put life vests on us, and then two of them tied a cord to the life vest and then around their own waists so we'd be attached to them. They had us climb on their boards, and we all headed out into the water. I remember Tommy had the biggest smile on his face."

Jean noted the smile on Lucien's face as he recalled the good times he'd had with his brother. "What about you? You must have enjoyed it, too."

"Paddling out there and waiting for the right wave was frightening, but as soon as we stood up, I was hooked. It was like nothing else I'd ever felt. Even with Sid behind me on the board, I felt completely free. I didn't want the ride to ever end. Tommy said he felt exactly the same way. He showed me his journal entry that night. He wrote that it made him feel as he imagined an eagle felt, soaring lazily on an updraft."

"Tommy kept a journal?" Geneviève seemed surprised.

Lucien nodded. "He started it right after we moved here. He never imagined we'd be living here for good. He wanted to document his American adventure, he said. As far as I know he continued it right up until the end."

"What happened to them, his journals?" Jean wondered.

"I have them, all of them, in a safety deposit box. He asked me to keep them safe for him. He thought one day he might use them to write a book. I've always thought I'd go through them when I could, see if it was worth having someone try to edit them into something that could be published. As a tribute to him."

"That's a lovely idea," said Jean.

"Maybe after I finish Alice's therapy I can manage it."

It was Geneviève's turn to pat his hand. "Your brother would be very proud of the man you've become, mon petit," she told him.

Jean could see how much that meant to Lucien, although he tried not to let it show. "Has everyone had enough to eat now?" he asked, placing the wrappers and utensils back on the tray. "If so, we should be going."

She glanced up at the clock and was surprised at how late it was. "Lucien, I'll need to leave for work soon. Will you be going in tonight?"

"I'll call Matthew and let him know I'm going to stay home with my mother. You'll be all right on your own again?"

Geneviève had other ideas. "Perhaps I could come to watch you both perform?"

"Are you sure? It might be rather late before we finish," Lucien pointed out.

"If you'd like, you could take a nap on the couch in my dressing room," Jean suggested. "It's quite comfortable."

"That sounds lovely," said Geneviève. "Lucien?"

"Well, then, instead of going home, we'll go right to the club," he said.

His smile told Jean how pleased he was that his mother wanted to see them perform.


	28. Chapter 28

They went directly to the club so that Geneviève could lie down for a while before the show. Jean herself had napped on the couch in her dressing room and she knew it was comfortable. She had brought a quilt from home just for napping, so she made sure Geneviève had everything she needed before she left her to sleep.

She went in search of Lucien.

"He's upstairs," Matthew told her, looking up from the paperwork he was examining on one of the tables. He paused and lowered his voice. "He was driving me crazy. I've never seen him nervous before a performance until now."

"He's nervous? About performing for his mother?"

"Go figure," said Matthew, returning to the accounts.

Surely he had performed for Geneviève often when he was a boy. What was different now, she wondered. She decided to ask him.

She found him standing in front of the mirror with an untied necktie hanging around his neck. When he spotted her he managed a smile. "What do you think? Necktie or no?"

Jean walked over to him and pulled on both ends of the tie so that he leaned down to kiss her. Then she pulled the tie away completely. "You never wear one of these onstage," she said, rolling it up and setting it aside before she unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. She looked him up and down, admiring the beautifully cut three piece suit and crisp white shirt. "Perfect, just like that," she assured him.

"Yes?"

"Oh, yes." She took his hand and led him over to the couch, insisting they sit. "Now, what's going on?" she asked gently.

He shook his head. "It's nothing."

"You're nervous about performing in front of your mother?"

"I know it's completely unreasonable, but she's still my mother and I want her to be proud of me," he admitted.

"It's not at all unreasonable to want your mother to be proud of you," Jean assured him. "But you must know she's proud of you anyway."

"I hope so. It's just... even as a boy the only times I was ever nervous before a performance were when I knew she was there."

"You weren't nervous on Christmas Day when you and I performed and she was there."

"You didn't know me quite as well, then. I actually was a bit, but I was just as anxious that you do well in front of Tony," he said.

"I'm the one who should be nervous tonight, trying to make a good impression," Jean pointed out.

Lucien shook his head. "She already adores you. She's told me as much. She adores you because you make me so happy."

Jean's smile bloomed. It was lovely to know Geneviève adored her, but even lovelier to know that she made Lucien happy. He certainly did the same for her.

"Then we have nothing to worry about," she said, kissing him again.

Geneviève was given the table nearest to the center of the stage, with Matthew and Alice to keep her company. Jean watched from the wings as Lucien performed. They had agreed he would do some extra songs on his own before introducing her. After he had done several, he pulled the microphone closer as the applause died down.

"Thank you very much. This is a special night for me because my beautiful mother is here tonight." He swept a hand toward Geneviève and blew her a kiss. "Maman, this one is for you."

Smiling at her, he began to play 'Let It Be'.

When he had finished, Geneviève clasped her hands over her heart before opening them toward him. In return, he bowed to her.

Seeing the exchange, Jean was touched. She could only hope that Thomas would no longer have the power to prevent Geneviève from seeing her son. Lucien could certainly use her support as his therapy proceeded.

Then he introduced her, and Jean went out to join him onstage. In honor of Geneviève she decided on the fly to sing something in French. One of the few songs she knew was "Ne Me Quitte Pas" as sung by Nina Simone, a song known in English as "If You Go Away". She whispered to Lucien what she wanted as she clasped his hand while the audience applauded her entrance. She trusted him to know the key and tempo she would need, and of course he did.

As she was finishing the song, she noticed Geneviève beaming and nodding her approval. Jean thought that if Geneviève was going to be a regular patron of the club she might need to expand her repertoire to include more songs en français.

She made sure to sing a couple of songs that required Lucien to join her. If he was still experiencing any nervousness it certainly didn't show. The audience, including Geneviève, seemed to enjoy the show immensely, demanding three encores.

When they finally left the stage together, Jean wore a beaming smile. "That was fun. Your mother should come more often."

"It _was _fun," said Lucien, "and thank you for singing in French for her. I could tell how much it meant."

"I'm glad."

"I'll meet you out front after we change," he told her, leaving her with a quick kiss.

Jean hummed as she made her way back to her dressing room. As she opened the door, she thought that if she and Lucien were going to be living together while his mother took over the guest house maybe she should suggest that they share the dressing room as well. Let Matthew have his office all to himself once more.

Quickly she changed her clothes, removed the stage makeup and brushed out her hair. She was hungry, not surprising since she'd eaten only the fast food since breakfast. Lucien must be as well. Maybe they should stop for something on the way home. It would save having to prepare something at the house and clean up afterwards.

She found Lucien sitting at Geneviève's table with Cec Drury. "Matthew and Alice went home," he explained. "It seems Lucy was fussing for most of the day so they wanted to rescue the poor babysitter who was at her wits' end."

Jean could sympathize. "So you need to lock up before we leave?"

"I can take care of all that," said Cec. "You go ahead."

"Thank you, Cec, that's very kind of you," said Lucien, standing up. "Home, then?"

Geneviève rested a hand on his arm. "Mon cher, would you think me terribly weak and hopeless if I asked you to take me back to our house?" she said softly.

He sat back down. "I know you are neither weak nor hopeless," he assured her. "If that's what you really want, of course I'll take you home."

"Watching you with dear Jean tonight, how you care for each other, it reminded me how much I still love your father. Walking out on him won't really solve anything. I plan to have a serious talk with him, though. No more secrets, and no more interfering with your life."

"I hope you can convince him. Your walking out might have shown him that you're serious, if nothing else," said Lucien.

"I'm sorry to be so much trouble for you. Both of you," she said, looking from Lucien to Jean.

"You were hardly trouble," said Jean. "It was lovely to spend time with you. You made the evening special for both of us."

"That's very sweet of you to say." She looked back at Lucien. "That's another item to address with your father. Both of you are welcome to visit at any time. _He _will make you feel welcome."

Lucien clearly felt some doubt that she could manage that, but he kept it to himself. "Well, then, it's back to the Palisades." He helped his mother to her feet, thanked Cec once again, and they all headed out to his car.

There was little conversation between the three of them as Lucien drove. Jean weighed whether she should try to lighten the mood with small talk but decided against it. Lucien might try to tell her otherwise, but she knew better than to offer her opinion unasked on a family issue. This was a matter for the Blakes to sort out among themselves.

"It's very late, Maman," Lucien said at last. "Maybe you should call to let them know you're on the way."

Geneviève considered that for a moment before reaching for her phone. "I'll call Dawson," she said. "Thomas needs to know immediately that my coming home doesn't mean all is forgiven."

Lucien raised his eyebrows as he glanced at Jean. It appeared Geneviève meant business.

When they reached the house, Dawson was standing outside to greet them, looking as impeccable as ever, even though they had reason to suspect the call had gotten him out of bed. He opened the car doors for both Geneviève and Jean, although Jean had not been expecting to go into the house. She thought Lucien might help his mother up the steps and inside, then they would leave. But Geneviève had other ideas.

"Come inside," she urged them. "You must be hungry. I'm sure Dawson can find something for you to eat."

"There's a pot of soup that will just take a moment to warm up," Dawson confirmed. "It was intended for Mister Blake's supper, but he hasn't been eating all day."

"Are you sure we won't be in the way?" Jean asked. The thought of a warm bowl of soup was very tempting.

"You go to the kitchen. I'll speak with Thomas, and then we'll both join you. I'll be sure he eats before going to bed." She kissed Lucien and then Jean on both cheeks and whispered her thanks, before leaning on Dawson's arm as he led her to find her husband.

Lucien watched her go, then he turned to Jean. "She's certainly determined. Maybe she's right and she can make him change. We'll see."

He tucked Jean's hand in the crook of his elbow and together they headed for the kitchen. By the time they got there the cook, Mrs. Lopez, already had the soup pot heating up. Dawson must have called ahead.

Mrs. Lopez, a genial woman with steel grey hair and a sunny smile, greeted Lucien enthusiastically. "Señor Blake, you should have told me you were coming," she scolded good-naturedly. "I would have made churros for you."

Lucien laughed and kissed her cheek. "Señora Lopez, this is my very dear friend, Mrs. Beazley. Jean, this is Carmelita Lopez, who makes the best churros in Southern California. She used to have them warm and waiting for Tommy and me when we'd get back from school."

Jean noted that the older woman crossed herself and whispered a blessing at the mention of Lucien's brother.

"A pleasure to meet you," Jean told her.

"Sit, sit," Mrs. Lopez urged. "Coffee, tea, beer?"

"Just some water, I think," said Jean. "Thank you."

"The same for me," said Lucien. "I can get it."

Mrs. Lopez nodded to him, then went to the oven to pull out some warm rolls and arrange them in a basket.

"Ah, you're in for a treat, Jean," Lucien told her. "Señora Lopez's French rolls are second only to her churros. She taught herself to make them especially for my mother, and you'll swear they came from a top French bakery."

"I look forward to it," said Jean, smiling at the woman who waved a hand at Lucien as though he were speaking nonsense.

They started on the rolls while waiting for the soup to be heated through, and Jean found that Lucien had not exaggerated about them. The exterior was perfectly crusty yet inside they were dense enough to be substantial while at the same time being soft and airy. "These are wonderful," Jean complimented. "I don't suppose I could get you to share your recipe."

The elderly cook winked at Lucien. "I will if you promise to make some for my Lucien."

"Of course," said Jean. "Any time he wants."

Mrs. Lopez sighed. "You should keep this one," she told Lucien.

"For as long as she'll have me," he replied. He and Jean shared a smile.

At that moment Geneviève entered the kitchen on Thomas's arm. Lucien quickly stood up. Whether it was out of respect for his mother or wariness of his father, Jean couldn't tell. She did note that the teasing manner Mrs. Lopez had adopted toward Lucien seemed to disappear entirely. She gave a polite nod in the direction of the two older Blakes before busying herself with the pot of soup.

"May we join you?" Geneviève asked Lucien and Jean.

"Yes, of course," said Jean after Lucien hesitated. It was their home, after all.

As if recognizing that he might seem a bit churlish, Lucien's manners returned and he pulled out a chair for his mother. Then he spoke to Mrs. Lopez. "Señora, I know we must be keeping you from your bed. I can take it from here."

The cook looked to her employers for permission to go. Geneviève said kindly, "Thank you for taking such good care of us. Good night."

She removed her apron, squeezed Lucien's arm in appreciation and hurried out.

Jean got up to help Lucien put the soup into the four bowls, and they all sat down. She was casting around for a way to excuse herself as well so the Blake family could speak in private, when Thomas spoke up.

"I've had a great deal of time to think today," he began.

"About?" asked Lucien.

"About many things, but especially about something you said last night." Thomas looked at Lucien, and Jean could see no trace of the angry bully she'd seen in their previous encounter. "You talked about losing everything, everything except money, and how little the money meant then. That's exactly how I felt for most of the day. I sat here in this big house all alone, having driven away my entire family. After spending an inordinate amount of time feeling sorry for myself, I finally admitted it was my own fault."

He paused. If he was waiting for someone to tell him that wasn't true he'd be waiting a long time, Jean thought, glancing at Lucien and Geneviève.

But he surprised her by accepting responsibility for his actions. "I'm sorry, my dear," he told Geneviève. "I'm sorry for so much, but especially for depriving you of your sons. I can never make that up to you. All I can do is acknowledge how wrong I was and try to do better in future."

Again he paused, waiting for Genevieve's reaction to his _mea culpa_.

If he thought she would accept it unreservedly, he was mistaken. She looked him squarely in the eye. "You will do better," she told him firmly. "I won't let you do anything to keep Lucien from feeling welcome in this house at all times. Today has been a wonderful day for me, and Lucien and Jean are the reason for that. I'm going to be a regular patron of their nightclub act, and I hope you'll join me at least once. And I'm going to invite them here for lunch or dinner as often as they can make it. We're going to be a family again, Thomas, with or without you. And I hope it will be with you."

Jean looked to see Lucien's reaction to that declaration. What was the word her own mother used to use? 'Gobsmacked?' Yes, he looked gobsmacked. And uncharacteristically silent.

She returned her attention to Thomas when he began to speak again. "To you, Lucien, I can only say I'm sorry. I've treated you very badly for a very long time. I realize that all the things your brother accused me of were true, and I can never make up for what I've taken from you. I can only say that I'm determined to do better in the future."

She watched Lucien struggle to respond. With the way his father had manipulated him for so many years, she could understand his reluctance to accept the repentance at face value. He glanced over at her while he collected his thoughts, and Jean tried to show that she supported him, no matter what he decided.

He cleared his throat. "I appreciate that you recognize you've made mistakes," he said slowly. "I hope this epiphany is genuine, I really do. I'm willing to give you the opportunity to show that it is, for Maman's sake."

Thomas bowed his head. "All right," he said. "I suppose I deserve to have you doubt my sincerity."

"He's giving you a chance to prove it," Geneviève pointed out. "Lucien is being gracious, Thomas. He doesn't have to do that. Mon cher, perhaps you and Jean could come to dinner later in the week?"

"We work almost every night," Lucien reminded her.

Jean noticed that he didn't mention the nights he took off, when he had therapy sessions. She suspected he didn't want his father to know about them, to give Thomas more reason to think him weak. She spoke up. "You could come to the club one night and we could get dinner afterwards," she suggested. "It wouldn't be fine dining, that late in the evening, but that isn't really the point, is it?"

"An excellent idea," said Geneviève. "Thank you, my dear."

As they finished their soup they finalized plans to meet up. Lucien was subdued throughout, offering minimal input, but he didn't seem sullen or morose. And when he saw Geneviève stifle a yawn, he saw that as a cue for them to take their leave.

He kissed his mother and then offered his hand to his father. Thomas seemed surprised, but he took it and the two of them shook. Jean hoped the rapprochement between them might be real, but like Lucien she would reserve judgment on Thomas's change of heart.

The short ride home was quiet but not uncomfortable. As he pulled the car into the driveway, Jean said, "What do you really think? Was he being sincere or was it an act for your mother?"

He waited until he'd parked and turned off the engine off before responding. "I have absolutely no idea," he admitted finally. "I hope you'll help me to figure it out."

She leaned forward to kiss his cheek. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm glad to hear that," he said with a grin. "Perhaps we could continue this discussion inside."

"In your bedroom?" she asked with a cheeky grin of her own.

"As good a place as any," he said, twining his fingers with hers.

"On one condition," she told him. "If you promise you'll still be in bed next to me when I wake up in the morning."

He tilted his head as though he were thinking it over. "I suppose..." he began, before he leaned in for a real kiss, deep and with a promise of more.

When it ended, she sighed in contentment. "Then what are we waiting for?"


	29. Chapter 29

Over the next several days Lucien seemed more relaxed, at peace with himself.

Perhaps it was having finally stood up to his father's bullying, and making it clear he would no longer accept such behavior from the man.

Perhaps it was his father's apology, although Jean wasn't yet convinced how sincere Thomas's apology was, or how much of it was merely said to pacify Geneviève. She was relieved to see that Lucien also had a healthy dose of skepticism about it. As he told Jean, he would give his father just enough rope to either hang himself or save himself, his choice.

And just perhaps, Jean admitted to herself, Lucien's new mood was a result of their spending their nights together. Since the gala, she had shared Lucien's bed each night and had even moved some of her things into his place. She kept her own home, and each morning after they'd lingered over breakfast together she would return to that home until they were ready to head to the club together. They might call each other or text several times throughout the day, or even drop over for a visit. One of those visits had resulted in a bit of "afternoon delight" as they made love in Jean's bed for the first time.

All in all, Jean reveled in all the joy of a new romance. Deep down she felt certain this would be her last chance to find true love and happiness.

Then, the day before his next session was scheduled with Alice, all of Lucien's carefree attitude melted away. He still smiled at her, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. His lovemaking, while still passionate and generous, held an almost desperate edge to it.

On the morning of the session she awoke to find herself alone in his bed for the first time since she'd spoken to him about it. She pulled on her robe and went looking for Lucien, although she had a good idea of where he would be. Sure enough, he was in the music room with earpods on.

When he saw her he took one out and offered it to her. "Keb' Mo's latest," he explained. "Have you heard it?"

She took the pod in her hand but didn't put it in her ear. Instead she said, "Talk to me, Lucien, please. Is it the session?"

He tapped the pod still in his ear to turn off the music and then removed it. He stared down at it for a long moment before speaking. "This week I have to relive it all," he explained. "I need to tell Alice exactly what happened, as though it's just occurring in the present."

"Oh, Lucien," was all she could manage. What could she possibly say to make it easier? She had a feeling he'd been imagining the session and what it would be like for the last day or so.

She took the pod from him, put both of them in their case, and then sat on his lap so she could put her arms around him. He held her tightly, his eyes closed.

After several minutes of holding each other in silence she told him softly, "If there's anything, anything at all, I can do to make it better, you know you only need to tell me."

"This helps," he assured her. "And knowing that when it's over, you'll be there, that's all I need."

"I'm not going anywhere," she insisted. "Well, to work, unless you want me to stay here. I'm sure Matthew won't mind."

He shook his head. "No, you should go. Cec will stream it to me. Just do me one favor?"

"Of course. Anything."

"Sing me one of your favorite songs. I don't care if it doesn't fit with the rest of the set, or it's the wrong style or even if it's wildly inappropriate. I just want to know it's your favorite."

"All right," she agreed, with a smile. She kissed his cheek. "Just for you."

"I'll look forward to it," he told her, and then he kissed her for real.

She waited with him until Alice arrived, trying to reassure him with her presence since there was little else she could do for him at this moment. When the doorbell sounded, Jean kissed Lucien and said, "You stay here. I'll let her in on my way out." She kissed him again for good measure, then walked upstairs.

As she passed Alice on the way out, she squeezed the doctor's hand.

"Please, if I can do anything for him, you'll let me know?"

"Yes, of course, Jean," said Alice.

Jean leaned closer to her. "And maybe you might remind him from time to time that I'll be waiting for him."

"I'm sure that will be a comfort to him," Alice told her.

For the rest of the day Jean felt at loose ends, unable to concentrate on much of anything. She couldn't begin to imagine the horrors Lucien was reliving, and her heart ached for him.

She tried to distract herself by thinking about what song she should sing for him. She certainly didn't have a single favorite - there were just too many that she loved. She decided she would pick something to show him how she felt about him, what he meant to her. It took a while, but finally she knew the perfect one.

When she got to the club, she went immediately to Terry Reynolds.

"I know it," Terry assured her. "It's a classic, of course."

Jean smiled. "I'd like to perform it with just your piano backing it, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind at all. I'm sure it will be great."

"Thank you, Terry," she told him. "I knew I could count on you."

"My pleasure."

With that settled she went upstairs to greet Matthew. She found him in his office trying to pacify his crying baby daughter while holding a phone conversation with a liquor distributor. Jean walked up to him and held out her arms, offering to take Lucy so he could talk. He handed the baby over gratefully, and Jean took her outside the office, closing the door.

"Now, what's all this, madame?" she said softly to the distressed infant. "Missing your mother, are you? She'll be back before you know it. Now, let's see if you need changing or maybe you're just hungry."

She wondered if Matthew had the diaper bag in his office or if it was downstairs somewhere.

"It looks like you do need changing," she said to Lucy. "It's no wonder you're upset, you poor dear."

Lucy's cries lessened to whimpers as she stared up at Jean.

A moment later Matthew opened his office door. "Thank you," he said. "She's been upset for most of the day. I think she picked up on Alice's anxiety this morning, before she left to see the major."

"That's entirely possible, but right now it's more about her wet bottom, I'd guess," Jean told him.

"Ah, that makes sense," said Matthew. "We should take care of that right now." He held out his arms to take his daughter, but she snuggled more deeply in Jean's arms, hiding her tiny face against Jean's shoulder.

"It looks like you're not in her good graces at the moment," Jean chuckled. "If you have her things, I can change her. Once she's dry and comfortable I'm sure she'll forgive you."

Matthew wasn't going to argue about someone else taking over diaper duty. He showed Jean the diaper bag and temporary changing station he'd set up.

As Jean had predicted, once Lucy was clean and dry she went willingly into her father's arms.

"You have the magic touch," he observed.

"It's probably just experience. It hasn't been all that long since Amelia was in diapers."

"Whatever it was, thank you," Matthew said sincerely. "Now if she'll just sleep through the show tonight..."

Jean began her set with the usual songs, but she made it a point to look directly into Cec's phone camera as often as she could. And she put more feeling into each song, as though she were singing them directly to Lucien, which of course she was. She was pleased to see the club patrons responding positively as well.

Near the end of the set, she nodded to Terry. He acknowledged he was ready so she spoke into the microphone.

"Thank you. You're a brilliant audience," she began. "This next song is very special to me. The very first time I heard Etta James sing it, I fell in love with the blues. I knew this was the kind of music that spoke to me, and I'm very happy that I get to share it with all of you. I'm singing it for someone very special tonight, someone who's had a difficult day. I hope this makes it just a bit better." She spoke directly to Cec's camera. "This one's for you."

And she began to sing:

"_At last my love has come along_

_My lonely days are over_

_And life is like a song._

_At last the skies above are blue._

_My heart was wrapped in clover_

_The night I looked at you."_

She poured all of herself into it, ending with the final line which she turned into a crescendo:

"_And here we are in heaven, for you are mine, at last."_

The applause was lovely and she accepted it graciously, but there was really only one reaction that mattered to her. She prayed that he'd enjoyed it.

It didn't take long for her to find out that he had. When she got back to her dressing room, her phone was lit up, indicating she'd received a text. It was from Lucien, saying _Call me plz_ followed by a kissing emoji.

She didn't even wait to change her clothes, so eager was she to hear from him.

His voice was husky as he greeted her. "Hello, my dear."

"Lucien, how are you?"

"Much better for having you sing to me," he said. "Thank you, Jean."

"I'm glad, and I meant every word of that song."

"And that makes me the happiest of all," he told her. "I can barely wait to see you."

"I wasn't sure if you wanted me to.. to spend the night with you tonight," she said a bit hesitantly.

"My dear, I want to spend every night with you. I don't think I'll be able to do much tonight, I'm afraid, but your presence would mean a great deal to me."

"Then there's nowhere else I'd rather be," she assured him. "I'll be there just as soon as I can."

"Thank you. Please drive safely, my love. I'll be waiting."

After ending the call, she quickly changed her clothes, removed the stage makeup and applied her much more subtle normal routine. Then she went to find Matthew, to let him know she was leaving.

Cec indicated he was in his office, so she walked upstairs. As she approached, she heard Alice talking to Matthew. Not wanting to walk in on an intimate moment, she rapped on the door frame, then hesitated a moment before sticking her head into the doorway.

Alice was turned sideways, holding Lucy and swaying her gently, while Matthew watched, a look of concern writ large upon his countenance. When Alice turned toward Jean, she could see why he was concerned: tears streamed down Alice's cheeks.

Jean's first thought was that something was wrong with Lucy, but the look of anguish Alice cast toward her made Jean realize it was Lucien that had caused her such pain. "Alice?"

Alice brushed away her tears with the back of her hand, much as a child would do. "Hello, Jean," she managed.

"It was that bad?" Jean asked softly.

Alice nodded. "I've treated rape survivors and domestic abuse victims and any number of soldiers with PTSD, but nothing prepared me for that. And of course it was even worse for Lucien to relive it all. By the time he reached the end, when he got away from them, he could barely speak his voice was so hoarse from screaming." Her tears started again, and they were matched by the ones running down Jean's cheeks.

"And we have to do it again next week, and maybe the week after that," said Alice, sounding forlorn.

Matthew put his arms around her.

"I just spoke with him," said Jean. "I'm on the way now to see him. Is there anything special I need to know or do?"

"No, not really. Just let him know he's not alone. And you or he can call me any time you need to," said Alice.

"Thank you, Alice. Thank you for helping him through this. I know how difficult it must be for you," said Jean.

"Not nearly as difficult as it is for Lucien. We just have to remember that if we can get through this he will be able to take control of his life."

"If he forgets that I'll certainly remind him. Good night, Alice, Matthew."

Jean found herself crying again as she drove home in the dark, anxious to hold Lucien in her arms.


	30. Chapter 30

When she reached home, Jean didn't stop at her place first as she normally would, she went directly to Lucien's house. He had given her a key when she'd first begun staying over, but she didn't want to startle him now so she tapped gently on the door, giving him a chance to compose himself or do whatever he needed to do first before facing her. If he didn't answer she would let herself in.

She was relieved to hear his footsteps from inside, and he was wearing a gentle smile when he opened the door to her. But the welcoming smile was the only thing that looked normal about him. His eyes were drawn, with a haunted cast to them, and he sported a somewhat grey pallor.

Without a word, Jean stepped toward him and wrapped her arms around his middle. Lucien responded by enfolding her in his strong embrace, and they stood like that for several minutes, neither of them speaking a word.

When Jean finally stepped back far enough to hold him at arms' length and study him, she heard Mattie clear her throat from behind him.

"I'll just be on my way, then," the young nurse said, grabbing her purse. She walked over to Lucien and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "Take care of yourself," she whispered to him.

"Thank you, Mattie," he told her, his voice still a bit hoarse.

"Good night, Mattie, and thank you," said Jean, and the girl waved an answering hand as she disappeared through the door.

Jean locked the door behind her, then turned back to Lucien. "Have you eaten?" she asked him.

"Not very much of an appetite, I'm afraid," he admitted.

"I thought I'd make some scrambled eggs and toast. Will you join me?" She figured something simple and quick might tempt him.

"I'll sit with you at least," he told her.

She decided to make enough for two, just in case she could change his mind. But first she put the kettle on to boil. She thought some chamomile tea might benefit both of them. "At least I know where everything is now," she said as she pulled eggs and butter from the refrigerator. "Not like when we were making our dinner on Christmas Eve." She hoped reminding him of happier times might help Lucien.

"We've come so far since then," he said. His gentle smile looked a bit more genuine.

"Yes, we have. Far enough that I hope you know I'll do anything I can to help you through this," she told him.

"I do know that, and your being here with me helps more than you can possibly know."

"Does it? I'm glad." She set down the items she held and walked over to hug him again. "Thank you for letting me in, for letting me be here with you," she told him quietly. "For trusting me enough to let me see you when you're not at your best."

He held her against his chest. "Jean, I trust you with my heart. Why wouldn't I trust you with the other parts of my life?" he said softly.

She hugged him more tightly at that, feeling her love for him reflected back at her. She reached up to kiss him before stepping back. "At this rate we'll never get around to eating," she said as she moved back over to the stove.

She finished making the eggs and toast, then poured out the tea. She placed all the food on one plate, which she set on the table between their two chairs, along with two sets of silverware and the mugs of tea.

Sure enough, not long after they sat down, he began to nibble on a slice of toast and then picked up a fork to dig into the eggs. "This is nice, just what I needed, as it turns out. Thank you," he said. "And thank you for the lovely song. It was perfect."

She smiled at him. "That's because I meant every word of it."

He hung his head for a moment, making her wonder if perhaps she'd said something inadvertently that hurt him. When he looked up at her his eyes had filled with tears, but he did not look the least bit sad. "At last _my _love has come along, too," he said quietly.

Much of the rest of their impromptu meal was in silence, but an intimate, companionable sort of silence. It was enough that they were together, with no further words required. When they finished, they shared the washing up duties as usual, then made their way upstairs to the bedroom.

She thought Lucien looked even wearier than she felt herself, and they both undressed quickly and slipped into bed, meeting in the middle of it. Lucien kissed her, as he usually did, but he deepened it more than she thought he might, and his hand moved up to cup her breast.

Surprised, she broke the kiss, arching an eyebrow to question him.

"Just because I'm not up for anything, so to speak, it doesn't mean I can't give you pleasure," he said.

"Lucien..." she chided him.

"Jean, I don't want you to be deprived due to my weakness," he began again.

She took hold of his hand and kissed it tenderly. "You're a wonderful and generous lover, but it's hardly deprivation for me to go a single night without having sex," she assured him. "You needn't feel obligated, tonight of all nights. I love you, Lucien, and if I'm ever feeling deprived I'll most certainly let you know. Now, are you going to be able to sleep tonight?"

"Alice gave me something to take if I feel I need it, but just having you here beside me is the best tonic of all," he said, leaning over to kiss her cheek, this time merely in affection.

"Then please promise you'll wake me if you need me, or even if you just want to talk. That's the only way I'll be able to sleep, all right?"

"Yes, of course," he said, sliding closer to wrap his arms around her.

Jean wasn't entirely sure he'd keep that promise, but having him spooned behind her was so comforting that she fell asleep before she could give it much further thought.

She slept quite soundly until a burst of cold air woke her. She was aware immediately that Lucien no longer held her from behind, and when she rolled over to check on him, she realized he was not in the bed, that the breeze she'd felt was from the door opening out onto the balcony. She peered through the sheer curtains to see him seated outside, staring at the ocean, with tears running down his face. Her heart clenched at the sight of him in such despair.

Not wishing to startle him, she rattled the doorknob before she opened the door and slipped outside. He scrubbed his palms over his face and then looked up at her, trying to smile.

"Lucien," she said softly, leaning over him to rest a hand on his cheek.

He turned his head to kiss her palm. "I'm sorry if I woke you," he said.

"You promised me you would wake me if you needed me," she reminded him, not unkindly.

"I know, but you looked so peaceful I didn't have the heart to disturb you," he admitted.

She shook her head. "You only make me feel guilty when you say things like that," she told him, sliding into the chair with him and putting her arms around him.

"That's the last thing I wanted," he sighed, the tears rising in his eyes once again.

He turned his head away from her, but she took his chin in her hand and turned him back so she could look in his eyes. "Tell me," she urged him. "The worst is over, isn't it? This was the session you were dreading, but it's over now."

Slowly he shook his head. "It's just beginning," he explained. "I have to listen to that session every day this week. And then I have to relive the whole thing again next week, and the week after that. That's why they call this treatment 'Prolonged Exposure'. The idea is that if I go through it often enough, it loses its power over me."

She couldn't prevent a wince at that, but then she gathered control of herself. She needed to help Lucien focus on the positives. "But it _will _lose its power, "she told him. "You can get through this, Lucien. I know how strong you are. Just remember what you'll be and what you'll have when it's over. And I'll be here with you through as much of it as you'll let me."

He studied her carefully, and she thought he was going to say something, but then he gave a slight shake and said instead, "Thank you, Jean. That means a great deal to me. And now, let's see if we can get some sleep."

He stood and took her hand, and they returned to the bed. For a long time they merely held each other. It was enough just to be together.

* * *

The sun was already shining when Jean awoke again. Lucien's arms were still around her, and she turned to face him. Before he could school his expression, she could see a look of deep despair and even fear in his eyes. She reached for him and held him tightly, and he returned the embrace with an almost desperate intensity.

She felt a stab of guilt that he was suffering like this, knowing he would not have consented to the therapy if not for for her, but then she remembered what Alice had said, that at the end of the treatment his life would be so much better, free of this crippling terror that held such sway over him.

She kissed his cheek as she held him, and that seemed to bring him back to himself. He kissed her on the lips, but lightly, as he did most mornings.

"We can just stay right here for as long as you like," she said gently, not wanting to pressure him in any way. They would take it slowly today, following whatever schedule made him comfortable.

He thought about the situation for just a moment. "I think I ought to get it over with, listening to the recording, so I don't spend the whole morning dreading it," he said.

"Would you like me to stay with you for that?" she asked. "You can listen on your headphones, but you'll know I'm there for moral support."

"You wouldn't mind? I'll probably be a wreck, but if I know you're there..."

"That's what we'll do then," said Jean. "Maybe some coffee and toast first?"

"Thank you, Jean," he said, "for everything."

"You're welcome. I know you'd do the same if our situations were reversed. Now I'll just pop into the shower for a minute before we go down."

He was quiet over their quick breakfast, and she elected to just hold his hand in support rather than trying to make meaningless conversation. He managed a smile for her when their eyes met, but most of the time he seemed to be gathering his courage for the ordeal that lay ahead of him.

She was nervous and on edge herself as he led her downstairs to his music room. He slipped his AirPods into his ears as he sat down in one of the upholstered chairs. She perched on the arm of his chair and draped her arm across his shoulders so he could feel her presence even with his eyes closed. He wore the look of a condemned man as he reluctantly pressed the Play button on the music system remote.

Moments later he was already wincing at what he could hear, but then he surprised her by removing one of the earbuds and offering it to her. He was trusting her enough to let her share in the weakest and worst moments of his life. With a touch of curiosity and a large share of apprehension, she slipped the pod into her own ear to listen to what he'd been reliving.


	31. Chapter 31

Jean locked gazes with Lucien as she accepted the earbud from him to listen to the session that had brought Alice to tears and left Lucien in such a fragile state. He nodded at her, then closed his eyes and returned his attention to the recording.

At first she didn't realize that the voice she was hearing through the bud was Lucien's, it was so flat and emotionless. "My helicopter is leaving. Their soldiers are headed toward me. I want to grab the strut as it's lifting off, but I know the chopper is already carrying too much weight. If I add my weight to it, that might bring it down and kill us all. Even if it doesn't crash, hanging on like that would leave me exposed to gunfire. If I'm shot I'll let go and the fall will kill me. No, I have to face them and surrender.

"They think I'm a prize they've won. They haven't captured a major before. They take my rank insignia and my dog tags. They bind my hands in front of me and drag me through the streets as they laugh and shout. Very thirsty from the dust. I see a few children along the way. They don't seem to know what to make of all this.

"Their base is apparently several miles away. They get into a vehicle, a very old truck. The rope tied to my hands trails out the rear window, so I have to run behind. Difficult to keep my balance with my hands bound, but I know what will happen if I fall, so I don't fall.

"We reach their base. It's actually little more than a shack. No windows, just one door. What looks like a cage for a dog in one corner, but I immediately know it's not for a dog."

Alice's voice said, "What are you feeling?"

"Scared. More afraid than I've ever been before. They untie my hands, but just to tie them behind my back. They push me down to my knees. One of them puts a sidearm to my head."

Jean could hear the fear in his voice as he relived the moment. She put both arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder, needing to remind herself and Lucien that he had survived this horror and was here with her.

"I'm sure this is it. Fight or flight response, but of course I can do neither. I'm sorry, Mei Lin. I'm sorry, my darling Li. I hear the click of the trigger. I flinch but there's no bullet. 'You're lucky today, Yankee devil,' the one holding the gun tells me. 'Maybe tomorrow not so lucky.'

"Before I can process what just happened, they force me into the cage and lock me in. It's so small I can't even move, especially with my hands bound behind me. I don't know how long I'm in there. I'm so thirsty, but there's nothing to drink. I'm afraid to call their attention to me by asking. After a while I fall asleep. I wake up and I don't know how long I've slept, but my hands are completely numb. I don't know if they've been damaged. How badly? Will I ever play the piano again if I even get out of here alive?"

There were audible sobs on the recording by now. Jean reached down to take his hand in hers, entwine their fingers, and kiss the back of it. She had never imagined just how real it would all seem just by having him recount the tale in the present tense.

"It's dark. I don't know if there's anyone else there with me or if I'm alone. I want to see if I can get my hands free but my fingers still don't work. Maybe they're just going to leave me here to die. No, that doesn't make sense. They think I'm a prize of some kind. Maybe they don't know yet what they want to do with me.

"Bored, hungry, so thirsty. I fall asleep again. I wake up when they kick the side of the cage. They drag me out. Down on my knees again. Gun to my head. I'm resigned at this point. If they're going to kill me anyway it might as well be now. Again the click of the trigger but no shot. I don't flinch this time, don't react at all. This angers the one holding the gun. He shouts at me, 'You think it's not real?' He holds the gun beside my ear, but not pointed at me, and fires several times. I only hear the first one that explodes next to my head. My hearing is completely gone. I panic at that. I'm not Beethoven, I can't manage if I'm deaf.

"Another man bursts through the door. He looks to be in charge; he's wearing my oak leaves insignia on his shirt. He seems to be shouting at the one with the gun, although I can't hear any of it. My head is ringing, concussion I think. He motions to the others and they untie my hands, help me into a chair. He stands in front of me and says something to me, but I just shake my head as I point to my ear. I don't feel like I can speak because I can't hear myself. At least I have some feeling in my hands again, though."

Again Jean pulled his hand to her lips and kissed it, hoping to reassure him that his hands were just fine now. His large, beautiful hands.

"A full canteen is thrust at me. I wonder if it's drugged or contaminated, but I'm so thirsty I can't really worry about that for long. I drink half of it without stopping. They give me a piece of bread. I eat that more slowly, washing it down with more water. Gradually the ringing in my head begins to subside a little, but I still can't hear much of anything.

"The leader is talking at me again. I don't know what he's saying. He has my dog tags around his neck, and keeps pointing at them, then at me. Yes, they're mine, but he took them from me so he knows that.

"He reaches into a bag he brought with him. Damn! He has a record album. One of mine. I can't believe it."

On the recording he began to laugh mirthlessly.

Alice's voice was heard. "What's so funny, Lucien?"

"The album they have. It's the Christmas one, the one Jean loved."

Jean inhaled sharply, wondering if her joking about loving that record had caused him pain. Lucien glanced at her for just a moment, long enough to squeeze her hand, before he closed his eyes once more to listen.

Alice spoke again. "You need to put that aside. What are they doing, now that they know who you are?"

"They look at my dog tags, then at the name on the album. They know it's me. The leader is shouting at me again, but I still can't make out what he's saying. I can tell it's not good news for me, though.

"He's frustrated. He seems to be yelling at the one who fired the gun. He points to the door, and that one leaves, not very happy. Another one, smaller, with very bad teeth, gets his instructions. I'm shoved back into the cage. My head is pounding, hurts so much that I don't even care about the cage. Finally I manage to fall asleep.

"The sound of men talking wakes me up. I can hear again, at least out of one ear. I ache all over, everywhere. I open my eyes just a crack to see what's going on. The leader is back again. He's speaking to his deputy in Arabic. I can make out some of it. Strange. They're talking about my father. They want to send him something. Movies? What kind of movies?

"When the leader pulls a camcorder out of his bag, I understand. They're going to send Dad movies of me. Will he even care? If they're looking to get something out of it they should be sending it to Maman. I'm not sure what Dad's reaction will be. I think about when we got word Tommy was dead. Dad was more upset that Maman and I were devastated than about losing his son.

"They pull me out of the cage and sit me in a chair so they can film my face. Don't want any doubt of my identity, I think. I don't let on that I can hear and understand what they're saying. Maybe they'll let something slip. They talk about money, a million dollars, two million. They're going to ask Dad for a ransom. Will they really let me go if he pays up?

"They're already spending the money. Weapons and trucks and explosives, hiring mercenaries. They have big plans for it. They think it's a done deal. I'm not so sure about that.

"The leader continues to film me. They have a rope, and they bind my hands in front of me with one end of it then toss the other end over the main beam that supports the roof. They pull it taut so that only the toes of my boots are on the floor. This can't be good. Then they tear my shirt off. One of them picks up what looks like a riding crop, and then I know what's coming.

"All I can think about is not shaming myself. 'Do your best,' my father used to tell me if I was nervous before a big concert. It always sounded like a warning to me back then, but it's all I can think of now. 'Do your best,' I tell myself as the first blow hits my back. Do your best. Do your best. Do your best!"

His voice on the recording got higher and louder. Lucien himself was squirming in the chair, as though he could feel the blows even now.

On the recording he began to shout. "Do your best! Do your best! Do your best!"

The pain in his voice brought Jean to tears. She buried her face in the crook of his neck. Lucien opened his eyes, and he put a finger under her chin to lift it so that he could see her. When he saw the tears, he motioned for her to remove the earbud and give it back to him. After a moment's hesitation she complied. It had to be difficult enough for him to relive it; he shouldn't have to worry about her reaction. Instead she would just be at his side to offer her support.

She held tight to him as he closed his eyes again to listen to the rest of it. Soon she saw tears coming from him. She wondered if he'd suffered from a flashback as he recounted it all to Alice.

At one point she could hear him screaming as the sound leaked out from the earbud. All she could do was rub his shoulder and squeeze his hand to let him know she was there and she loved him. She wanted to remind him that despite the terrible things they'd done to him, he had survived, and the two of them would share a future together.

Jean didn't know how long it took before he finally switched off the recording and removed the buds. He took a deep breath and ran a hand over the hair at the back of his head before he met her eyes. He managed a tentative smile for her.

"All right?" she asked softly.

"Quite," he told her after clearing his throat. "Thank you for being here."

She hugged him tightly, at a loss for words, except the ones that mattered most. "I love you, Lucien."

"And I love you, my dear. I'm sorry that I upset you."

She snorted at that. "I'm so proud of you. What you've been through, what you survived." She thought it best not to mention that she thought his father must have been some kind of monster to have watched the film of what Lucien described and not been moved to do whatever was necessary to save him from more of that.

"Yes, well, I didn't really have a choice, did I?" he noted.

"Now, then, what do you say to a cup of tea?" Jean suggested. She thought they could both use something soothing and comforting.

He nodded, standing up and taking her hand. "Don't you have more important things to do?" he asked.

"Nothing more important than you," she assured him. The last thing she was going to do was to leave him on his own for the rest of the day. She would be with him to make sure he didn't slip into depression. She felt it was the least she could do.


	32. Chapter 32

Lucien looked totally wrung out just from listening to the session, so Jean gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. "Stay right there, my love. I'll be back with the tea in just a minute," she told him.

He nodded wearily, but before she could leave, his phone sounded. She watched as he dug it out of his pocket and took a look. "Alice," he announced.

"I'll leave you to it, then" she said, and headed upstairs.

As she put the kettle on, Jean tried to think how they could spend the day that might be calming and healing for Lucien. She remembered him telling her that he found surfing therapeutic, but she certainly didn't like the idea of him being out on the ocean alone.

She paused to glance out at the water. To her untrained eye the waves looked strong enough for surfing. Previously Lucien had offered to teach her how to surf, but she didn't quite know how she felt about that, and teaching an absolute neophyte like herself would hardly be relaxing for him. She wondered if Mattie might know any of the men who usually surfed with him. Maybe she could prevail on one of them to join him now.

Mattie answered the phone call immediately. "Is Lucien all right?" she asked anxiously.

Jean smiled to know how concerned her young friend was. She hoped Lucien realized just how many people cared for him. "Hello, Mattie. Nothing has happened, if that's what you mean, but he's still very shaken. And having to relive it again and again is taking a toll on him."

"I can imagine," Mattie sighed. "But, Jean, that's the whole premise behind this particular form of therapy - if he goes through it often enough it loses its power over him and he'll realize it can't hurt him."

"I know; he explained it to me. But in the meantime it _is _hurting him. That's the reason I called. Lucien says that surfing calms and relaxes him. The surf's up, but I don't like the idea of him being out there alone in his current state of mind. By any chance, do you know how to contact any of his surfing buddies?"

"That's a great idea. Let me call Ned, see if maybe he can get any of the others, too," said Mattie.

"Oh? You have Ned's phone number?" asked Jean archly.

"As a matter of fact, Ned and I have gone out a few times since that incident with the police. Nothing serious yet, but who knows?"

"Well, if it makes any difference, I approve. He seems like a fine young man."

"It does make a difference because I respect your opinion," said Mattie. "And he is a fine young man, especially when you get him to open up. He's a bit shy, but he's fascinating, the life he's lived. Anyway, let me see if I can reach him."

"Thank you. And Mattie, if Ned can come, you should tell him to park in the drive, not out on the road. We wouldn't want anyone to 'accidentally' leave something illegal in his car to be found."

"Right. I didn't even think of that. I'll tell him. Thanks."

Jean finished making the tea and placed the mugs on a tray along with some cookies. She wondered if Lucien was finished with his call from Alice, not wanting to interrupt their talk. She thought she'd wait a few more minutes, just to be sure, then make some noise as she went down the stairs to let him know she was coming.

She was just about to pick up the tray when her phone lit up. Alice.

As soon as she pressed the button to open the connection, Alice was speaking. "Jean, is he right there with you?"

"He's down in the music room. I'm headed there now."

"Good. Please don't let him be alone more than a few minutes at a time. I'm afraid he's falling into depression."

Jean had suspected as much, but somehow hearing Alice say it served to increase her fears. "Can't you give him something? An antidepressant or anything?"

"No, I'm afraid not. First of all he wouldn't take it. And we tried that years ago, shortly after he was released from the hospital. It didn't go well, made matters worse actually."

"What can I do to help him?"

"As I said, don't leave him alone any longer than absolutely necessary. And talk to him about the future and the things he has to look forward to."

Jean took a deep breath, trying to tamp down her fear for him. "Yes, I can do that. I should probably let Matthew know I won't be in to work tonight."

"It would be better if you can talk Lucien into coming in with you to perform. A roomful of people showing their appreciation would be good for him."

That made sense to Jean. "Yes, all right. I'll suggest it, but if he'd rather stay home I won't leave here without him."

"Exactly as it should be. Just let us know what he decides. If he's going to the club, I'd like to be there."

"Of course. I'll speak with you later then. I want to get back to him."

"Thank you, Jean. Matthew and I are very glad that you are in Lucien's life."

"Me, too," said Jean before ending the call.

Quickly she took the tray of tea things and went downstairs. When she entered the music room she caught him staring off into space, a grimace of pain on his face. She guessed he was remembering something thoroughly unpleasant; she tried not to imagine what. When he saw her, he managed a strained smile by way of greeting, so strained that it made her heart clench. She set down the tray and walked over to put her arms around him.

Lucien pulled her down into his lap and held her tightly. "Thank you for being here," he whispered into her hair.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be," she reassured him.

"Nowhere?" he asked in a teasing voice. "Not on a beach in Tahiti? Not floating down the Seine? Not at the Newport Jazz Festival?"

She leaned back so she could see his face. "I've never been to any of those places, so I wouldn't know. For the moment I'm perfectly happy being right here with you. Maybe some day you can show me some of those sights, though."

He smiled, and this time it reached his eyes. "It would be my pleasure to show you the world, Jean, whether or not we ever go touring together."

"I'm going to hold you to that, Lucien Blake," she said, before kissing him soundly to seal the deal. "Now, our tea is going to get cold."

They had just finished their tea and were clearing the things away when a voice called down, "Hello?"

"Is that Mattie?" Jean asked.

"Down here," Lucien called up to her.

Mattie appeared at the top of the stairs. "I found someone at your door," she explained, stepping back to show Ned standing behind her.

"I hope I'm not interrupting, Lucien, Mrs. Beazley. I just thought it looked like a good day to catch some waves."

Lucien turned to Jean and raised an eyebrow.

"You should go," she urged him. "I know how much you enjoy it. It'll do you good."

"Why don't you come with us?"

She shook her head. "Maybe another time. You go with Ned, and I'll watch from the porch off the bedroom." She gave him a kiss. "Go. Have fun."

As she had hoped it did seem to help him. He was out on the water for over two hours, while she sat on the upstairs balcony, trying to read a book but actually looking out to sea most of the time, keeping an anxious eye on Lucien.

When he returned with his hair attractively mussed and curling from the salt water, and his face flushed from the wind, he looked so delectable that Jean wanted nothing more than to grab him and drag him off to bed, and it seemed that's what he wanted as well. She watched his eyes darken as he saw her staring at him. She stepped forward to rest a hand against his bare chest. Still wearing his half-unzipped wetsuit, he took her hand in his own, kissed it, and together they went back up to the bedroom.

His love-making was as generous and gentle as ever, but afterwards when they were lying sated and wrapped around each other, he seemed to become distant, his eyes staring off into the distance. It was a sharp contrast to the way he usually focused on her so intently. She had always felt flattered by that, and although she wasn't narcissistic enough to expect that degree of attention from him constantly, she didn't like to see him drifting to who knew where in his mind.

"Lucien?" she said softly, hoping to draw his focus back to her, to the two of them.

He kissed the top of her head absently. "Hmm?"

She thought quickly for a topic. "Work tonight? What do you think?"

"I think Matthew's expecting us. Wouldn't want to leave him hanging."

"No, certainly not, as long as you feel up to it."

"I'm fine, Jean. Right as rain," he told her firmly.

But when she looked up into his eyes, they told her something else entirely.

* * *

They arrived at the club at their normal time. Alice and Matthew were waiting for them with little Lucy in tow. When Lucien headed up to the office to change, Matthew followed him taking the baby with him in her carrier.

"You know, I can't believe how quickly she's growing," Matthew said as they walked. "Before you know it she'll be walking and talking."

"Yes," said Lucien, glancing down at the tiny girl.

"Any guesses as to what her first words will be?"

"Depends on whether she takes after her mother or her father," said Lucien.

"Let's hope it's her mother," said Matthew.

"Let's," Lucien agreed.

When they had disappeared Alice said softly, "Matthew's reminding him that he needs to be around to see Lucy grow."

"Yes, of course," said Jean. "Alice, I need to know, exactly how worried are you?"

"Well, let's just say that as long as he doesn't start talking about suicide I won't worry too much."

"I'll bear that in mind," said Jean. "I'd better start getting ready."

Jean prepared as quickly as she could to go onstage, wanting to watch Lucien perform. She always enjoyed hearing him play, of course, but since his choice of music usually reflected his mood, it seemed especially important at this time.

He knew so many songs that he didn't feel it necessary to prepare a playlist in advance. Instead he tended to select what he thought the evening's audience would like to hear on any given night.

On this particular night he strode out on stage to the usual warm reception from the club's patrons. He bowed slightly in acknowledgment then sat at the piano and launched into the classic 'Saint James Infirmary Blues'. Although the lyrics were about a man going to the morgue to identify the body of someone he loved, Jean knew it was one of Lucien's favorites, and he'd played it often enough that his choice of it now told her very little.

She stood in the wings watching him play. No matter how often she heard him, she still found the level of his talent astonishing, and very, very attractive.

She glanced out at the audience, noticing several women who seemed to share that attraction. _Hands off, he's mine, _she whispered.

She saw that Alice and Matthew were at the table they usually occupied whenever Alice stayed for the show. Jean noticed Alice was also studying Lucien closely.

His next song was Professor Longhair's 'Big Chief', an uptempo song that was another favorite of his. Nothing concerning there.

That was followed by 'Waiting for a Train', another classic. He seemed to be in a mood for older songs. Jean wasn't quite sure what to make of that, especially when the next song was the very sad 'Careless Love'.

He usually did four or five songs before introducing her.

"One last song before we bring out the star of this evening's entertainment," Lucien announced to the audience. "I'm sure many of you know this one. It's called 'Trouble in Mind' and it's been covered by just about every blues artist you can name."

He launched into the slow, mournful tune. Jean sang the lyrics in her head.

_Trouble in mind, I'm blue, but I won't be blue always, _

_Because the sun's gonna shine in my back door some day._

But then she skipped ahead, remembering the end of the song.

_I'm gonna lay my head on some lonesome railroad line, _

_And let the 2:19 train ease my troubled mind._

She gasped and looked at Alice, who was also shocked at Lucien's song choice. Jean didn't know what Alice intended to do, but she herself planned to fight for him with everything she had.


	33. Chapter 33

Watching Lucien play a song that featured suicide as a cure for depression, Jean knew she had to fight for him, to show how much he meant not only to her but to others.

When he finished playing and introduced her, she walked confidently onto the stage, gave a slight bow and stepped up to the microphone. "Thank you very much, and thank you, Lucien." She gave him a broad smile, then addressed the audience again. "I'm sure you all know what an incredible musician we have in Lucien Blake..."

She paused as the people showed their agreement. Lucien looked startled. She had never done anything less this on stage before.

"But unless you're a singer or a musician, you might not appreciate just how incredible. I can come to him with any song I've heard and suggest adding it to the set, and no matter how obscure it is, he'll play it immediately, and in the exact key and tempo for me. Just to show you, I'm going to abandon the playlist I'd planned to sing, and make up a new one on the fly, just because I can, and I know he'll not only keep up with me, but more than likely be one step ahead, even if we've never practiced it. For instance, let me start with one of my favorites, 'At Last'. I sang it here for the first time last evening, but Lucien was home at the time. Lucien?"

Sure enough, he played an introduction that was much more complementary for her voice than Terry had managed. As Jean began to sing, she made certain to lock her gaze on Lucien frequently. She wanted to leave no doubt in his mind that this song expressed exactly how she felt since he'd come into her life.

She continued to choose songs that let him know what he meant to her, and what it would be like for her if she lost him. Such songs as the standard "I Only Have Eyes for You", Willie Nelson's "Crazy", Doctor John's "Something You Got", and Paul McCartney's "No More Lonely Nights". As she knew he would, Lucien didn't miss a beat. He picked up each song immediately upon her announcing what she would sing next.

The audience loved the interaction between them. And Lucien seemed to be having fun as well, enjoying the challenge. She glanced down at the Lawsons to see Alice nodding approvingly at Jean's tactics while Matthew shook his head in amazement at Lucien's abilities.

Jean was trying to decide on a final song when Alice called out, "'On My Own'."

"All right," said Jean. "You'll have to join me on this one, please, Lucien."

He turned his voice microphone back on and said, "If you're ready?"

She removed her microphone from its stand so she could move around, then nodded to him.

As she sang the song about lost love, she poured all of her feelings into it, everything she already knew from losing a husband and everything she feared about losing Lucien. Tears rose in her eyes, and she continued to glance at him throughout the song, and she saw him wince once or twice, probably at her tears.

When they finished, the applause was immediate and sustained. Jean approached the piano and held a hand toward Lucien until he stood and walked over to clasp it in his own. They bowed together and walked offstage,

Lucien took her in his arms and whispered over the sustained applause, "Are you all right, my dear?"

She held onto him tightly. The thought of never having this again was just about inconceivable to Jean.

He leaned back so he could see her face just as a fresh tear spilled down her cheek. She swept it away with the back of her fingers before saying, "We need to do an encore."

He continued to gaze down at her until she took his hand and dragged him back onstage. At that point she murmured to him, "_Ne Me_ _Quittes Pas."_

She didn't wait for him to play an introduction, launching directly into the English lyrics:

"If you go away on this summer day

Then you might as well take the sun away"

She meant every word of it as she sang. And she resolved to tell him at the first opportunity.

* * *

The topic was too emotional to address in the car on the way home, so the drive was a quiet one. Despite his own issues, Jean could tell that Lucien knew she was upset with something he'd done, and subsequently he allowed her the opportunity to raise it when she was ready.

As was their custom, they prepared a light meal together, just a salad and a bottle of wine. When they sat down across from each other, Lucien gave her a questioning look.

She sighed heavily. "I can't go through it again, Lucien," she told him.

"Go through what again?" he asked, the fear in his eyes very plain to her.

She realized he had jumped to the wrong conclusion. She cursed herself for forgetting that his wife had abandoned him due, in part, to his PTSD, and now he thought she was doing the same. She hurried to reassure him.

"I can't lose you, Lucien." She paused to take a deep breath. "When I lost Christopher, the pain was beyond anything I could have imagined. The only reason I had to keep getting out of bed in the morning was my boys. But now, you're _it_ for me. If I lose you, even music will be ruined now."

"You think you're going to lose me? Jean, I love you," he insisted. "You're _it _for me, too."

She was irritated that he seemed to be ignoring her real concern. She shook her head. "I know how much courage it took for you to come this far in your therapy," she began, and she saw that he now knew exactly what she was talking about. "If it gets to be too much, if you really can't face any more of it, I won't think any less of you if you want to call it off."

"Jean, I...". He paused, unsure what he wanted to say.

She continued on. She wanted to be certain that she wasn't making it convenient for him to stop the therapy, but at the same time letting him know there was a way out if it really did become more than he could endure.

"If you do complete it, though, just imagine what it will mean in your life. In our life, because I'm not going anywhere. You won't have to let that part of your past dictate the future any longer. You'll finally be free of the people who did those things to you. If you want to go back to being a concert pianist, you can. If you want to start a new career with me and the blues, you can do that, too. It's _your _choice."

He reached for her hands, and she clasped his eagerly, but she was dismayed that his head was down, staring at the table.

She squeezed his hands until finally he looked up at her. "I love you, Lucien Blake. Nothing is going to change that. And if I need to remind you of that every day, every hour even, I will. I can stay right beside you while you listen to those recordings for as long as you need me to, is that understood?"

He managed a small smile, but it was genuine. "Understood. I'm not sure what I've done to deserve you, but whatever it was, I'm grateful."

She arched her eyebrow. "Are you fishing for compliments?"

"No, no," he said, holding up his hands in surrender.

"Are you sure? I can give you a list of reasons why I, and many other people for that matter, love you. But knowing you as I do, I think you'd be very embarrassed before I finish."

He laughed self-consciously. "I'm perfectly willing to take your word for it, my dear."

"Good," she said smugly. "I can think of something I'd rather do."

"Oh?" he said as his eyes began to gleam darkly.

* * *

After his reassurances, Jean managed to sleep without worrying what Lucien might get up to in the middle of the night. Nonetheless she was fully aware of him curled up behind her as she slept. In the morning, as she lay in his arms, she decided that she would continue the campaign to show him all he had to live for. She thought Amelia might just help with that. Her granddaughter adored Lucien, and how could anyone with his empathy not be affected by a child's unconditional love?

She was trying to come up with a plausible scenario for taking Amelia for the day when her musing was interrupted by her phone's ringtone. She groaned at being disturbed until she looked at the screen identification: it was Christopher.

"That's funny," she said. "I was just thinking it's been much too long since I've seen Amelia."

She touched the screen to accept the call. "Good morning, Christopher."

"Hi, Mum. Sorry for calling so early, since I know how late you get home. I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, I was awake. Is everything all right? Amelia and Ruby?"

"We're all fine. I was wondering if we could drop by this morning. Ruby and I haven't seen the new place yet anyway, and there's something we'd like to talk about with you."

"Of course. I'd love to see you. Don't you have to work today?"

"I'm going in later, at noon. So is ten o'clock all right for you?"

"Yes, I'll see you then," said Jean, ending the call. She glanced at the clock. Eight-thirty now. "They'll be over at ten. He said they need to talk with me about something," she explained to Lucien. "Would you mind terribly looking after Amelia while we talk?" If she wasn't going to be with him herself, she knew Amelia's presence would guarantee that he wouldn't do anything drastic.

"Not a bit," he said. "Why don't you jump in the shower while I listen to the session."

She shook her head. "The shower can wait. I promised I'd be there with you for that, and I will. Let's go."

They went down to the music room, and once again Jean sat on the arm of Lucien's chair, but this time he pulled her onto his lap immediately. "I think this might be more comfortable for you," he said, "and it will make me aware that you're here, no matter how much I'm immersed in listening."

"Good," she said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

He put one of the earbuds in his ear, then placed the other on the small table in front of them. "Entirely your choice."

"What do _you_ want?" she asked, not certain how long she could bear to listen, but willing to support him if he needed her to know everything he'd been through.

"I want you to do what you're comfortable with. I want you to know that I'm not hiding anything from you, but at the same time I don't want to subject you to this unnecessarily."

She nodded. "For now I'll just be here for you," she said.

"Understood. Thank you," he said gently. Then he squared his jaw and pressed the Play button on the remote.

* * *

She watched him the whole time, kissing or stroking his cheek whenever he seemed to be in particular distress. There were still tears in his eyes when he turned off the recording, but the look on his face was not quite as devastated as the day before. Perhaps the therapy strategy was beginning to work. In any case, she planned to continue to do the same thing each time until he felt he didn't need her assistance to get through it.

With Christopher due in thirty minutes, they hurried to shower and get dressed. (Jean would have shared the shower with him if Lucien had suggested it, but he seemed more concerned with making sure she wasn't late being ready.)

As it was, she had just made a pot of coffee when Christopher's car pulled into the drive. She opened the door and waved so that they would come over to Lucien's house, then went out to greet them. As soon as she was released from her car seat, Amelia ran toward Jean, arms outstretched to be picked up.

"Hello, my darling girl," Jean told her, hugging her tightly.

"Loo-sen?" Amelia asked her.

"Lucien is just inside. Would you like to go in and see him?" She turned to Christopher and Ruby. "Lucien will be happy to entertain Amelia while we talk," she explained.

"He will indeed," said Lucien himself, stepping outside. "Christopher, Ruby, how are you? All well, I hope."

"Yes, thank you," said Christopher. "Good to see you. This is some view you have here." His arm swept out toward the ocean.

"We like it. Now, why don't I take this young lady and we'll see if we can find the cat."

"Kitty, Amelia?" Jean asked her. "You go with Lucien, sweetheart, while Mum and Dad and I have a chat." She set the child down, and Amelia immediately went over to Lucien and took his hand.

Jean then led Christopher and Ruby over to her home. Proudly she showed them around.

"Quite a step up from your old place," said Christopher.

"It's beautiful," Ruby sighed. "I'm so happy for you, Mum."

"Thank you. Now tea or coffee while we talk?"

When they were all seated around her kitchen table with a cuppa, Christopher began. "I have some good news, first of all. I've been offered a big promotion at work. They want me to be a regional manager."

"That's wonderful," Jean exclaimed. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks, Mum. The thing is, the region they want me to manage is southern Nevada," said Christopher.

"Oh!" Jean was thrown by the idea. Clearly it would mean they had to move away.

"It's not so bad," Ruby hastened to assure her. "I mean it's only a few hours' drive. We'd still see you regularly."

"Yes, of course." But Jean had grown up several hours' drive away from her own grandparents, and she was lucky to see them more than once a year. She couldn't bear the thought of seeing Amelia so seldom. Her granddaughter would grow up barely knowing her.

Christopher reached out to touch her arm in comfort. "Now that you have room here, Amelia could come to stay with you from time to time," he assured her, as though he'd read her thoughts. "In fact, we wondered if she could stay with you for a week or so while we go there to check out the area and find a place to live. If that's a problem for you, we can take her with us."

"No, no problem at all," Jean said quickly. She intended to make it a memorable time for Amelia so there would be no danger of the child forgetting how much her grandmother loved her. "When would that be?"

"The end of the week, if that's okay," said Ruby.

Jean thought quickly. By then Lucien should be doing somewhat better, and having Amelia around might be just the tonic he needed. She glanced out the window in the direction of his house and saw him out on the porch with Amelia, who was carrying poor Scout in her arms. As Jean watched, she saw Lucien pull his phone out and glance down at it before lifting it to his ear. His other hand reached out to hold the straps of Amelia's overalls so she couldn't wander away. It was obvious to Jean that he took his responsibilities toward the child very seriously indeed.

"The end of the week would work out perfectly," said Jean, returning her attention to the conversation at hand. "I'm looking forward to it."


	34. Chapter 34

Jean, Christopher, and Ruby arranged the details for Amelia's week-long visit to her grandmother. If all went well, Jean hoped they would be willing to have her come for additional extended visits. And they assured her their house hunting would be for at least a three-bedroom home so that Jean could also visit them in Las Vegas whenever she wanted, with or without Lucien. It seemed Christopher and Ruby felt nearly as bad as Jean did at her separation from Amelia.

With everything settled then, they went to retrieve the toddler. Amelia and Lucien were no longer outside, so Jean led the way onto the porch. "They must be inside," she said. "Come on in."

"Are you sure?" asked Ruby.

Jean had told them about Lucien having been a musical prodigy and even showed them his album cover. It seemed Ruby was slightly in awe of him as a result.

"Come along," Jean said, holding the door for her.

"Ooh, what a lovely kitchen," Ruby sighed as she stepped in. "I don't suppose we can afford anything like this in our new home."

"Not this big," Christopher agreed. "It is nice, though."

"Lucien enjoys cooking so this room is important to him," Jean told them. She listened for a moment and heard the piano playing. "Sounds like they're downstairs. Lucien is probably teaching Amelia to play the piano."

"Oh, really," said Ruby with a smile.

Jean led the way downstairs, surprised to hear happy music, the last thing she expected Lucien to be playing. As she got closer she recognized it as the theme song to 'Sesame Street', but with discordant notes scattered in. Entering the room, she saw Lucien at the piano bench with Amelia on his lap. The little girl was pounding the keys joyfully.

He nodded to them but kept playing until the end of the verse. Amelia was perfectly content to continue as well. When Lucien finished, she pounded twice more on the keyboard, then looked to her parents and grandmother for approval.

Jean applauded her enthusiastically, followed by Ruby and then Christopher.

"I played," Amelia pointed out proudly.

"Yes, you did, sweetheart," said Jean. "You helped Lucien."

"And very well at that," said Lucien. "She doesn't know the proper notes or chords, of course, but she has a good feel for the tempo."

"If you say so," said Christopher doubtfully. "She must get it from her grandmother."

"Quite so."

"Lucien, Amelia is coming to stay for a while starting next week while her parents are away," Jean told him.

"Is that right? Well, then, I suppose we can continue the lessons. Don't you think, Amelia?"

The little girl banged on the keys happily once more.

"That sounds like fun," said Christopher, "but right now I've got to take Amelia and Ruby home so I can get to work on time. Lucien, thank you for keeping her occupied, and Mum, just thank you for everything."

Ruby echoed the thank yous and soon the three of them were headed home. After seeing them off, Jean moved closer to Lucien and put her arms around him.

"You seem much more cheerful. Is that down to Amelia?"

"In part, but I also received some family news of my own."

"Oh?"

"Yes. The schedule was released today for the new season at the Hollywood Bowl. Guess who the featured violinist is for the opening weekend." His smile was as wide as any Jean had ever seen on him.

"Judging by the proud look on your face, I'd have to say your daughter, Li. I'm so happy for you, Lucien." She hugged him tighter. This was just the kind of news he needed at this point in time.

"We'll have to make it a celebration," he told her. "I was thinking one night we could have all our family there - my parents, Christopher and Ruby, Jack and his girlfriend, if you think they'd enjoy it. And the other night we could have friends - Matthew and Alice, Mattie and Ned, Patrick and his wife Susan, and Cec."

"That's a lot of tickets," Jean pointed out.

"I have a garden box there. I don't use it all that often, mostly give the seats away to friends or the kids in the foundation, or the Bowl resells them, but for something like this..."

"You'll get a chance to spend time with Li, won't you, if she's going to be in town for several days?"

"I need to introduce the two of you," he said firmly, although she noticed he evaded the question somewhat.

"I'm looking forward to meeting her," said Jean. In truth, she felt a bit apprehensive at the prospect. Not only was Li Lucien's only child, she was also a world-renowned musician. Then again, Lucien had once been as well, and there was nothing intimidating about him. She hoped Li had inherited the gene for kindness from her father and grandmother.

"Would she be able to stay here while she's in town?" she asked Lucien.

"I don't know," he admitted. "In part, it depends on how much political tension there is between China and this country at that time. And whether her husband and daughter are traveling with her."

"You'll invite her, of course?"

"She has a standing invitation, but I'll certainly reach out to her once again. And speaking of staying here, what about Miss Amelia?"

"Yes, Amelia," said Jean, and she could feel herself tear up at the thought that her darling granddaughter was soon to be living so far away.

"What's this? You aren't happy that she's coming to stay?"

She shook her head to drive away the tears. "I'm always happy when I can spend time with Amelia. That's the problem, Lucien. Christopher's just received a big promotion at work, but it means a transfer. They'll be moving to Las Vegas. I'll never get to see her."

He took her in his arms to comfort her. "I'm so sorry, Jean. I suppose there's some consolation in that it's Las Vegas and not Chicago or Atlanta. No reason we can't hop into the car and drive there when you're missing them. Maybe spend the night, take in a show or two."

She sometimes forgot that Lucien had toured all over the world. Driving to Las Vegas for the day was no big deal to him. Jean, on the other hand, with her aging, unreliable car and limited travel experience, saw a trip to Las Vegas as a major undertaking. "I was thinking that if the week she spends with us goes well I might be able to convince Christopher and Ruby to let her come for extended stays more often."

"And why not, eh? We could even fix up a little girl's bedroom for her. What do you say?"

"Don't you think you might be getting a little ahead of yourself?" Jean asked, although this new enthusiasm had certainly propelled him out of his depression.

"The extra rooms are just sitting there," Lucien insisted. "We could make one over to be fit for a princess. Then if Li comes to stay with her family, my granddaughter Jia can use it, too."

Jean wondered if Lucien had even met his granddaughter, but she didn't want to make him sad if he hadn't. He seldom spoke of her, or Li either, for that matter, despite Jean knowing how much he loved Li. It had to be so painful for him. And here she was lamenting that Amelia would be a few hours away.

"Jia is such a lovely name," she remarked.

He smiled affectionately. "It means 'beautiful'."

"Then she deserves a beautiful room to stay in, as does Amelia." Jean wanted to encourage his current mood.

"Right." He glanced at his watch. "We have time to go furniture shopping now, unless you have something else planned."

No, I'm all yours," she said.

"And I'm very glad you are," he told her, his eyes shining.

* * *

In the children's furniture store, Jean was immediately captivated by any number of things. With her two boys, she'd never had occasion to furnish a room for a little girl. The pinks and yellows and pale greens delighted her.

"A crib or a bed?" Lucien asked her.

"How old is Jia?"

"She's almost four."

"A bed with removable rails would be best, then. That way the girls won't outgrow it quite so quickly," Jean explained.

A lovely bed of blonde maple with a frilly pink canopy caught her eye. Lucien was already walking toward it, so she followed him. The tag on the piece said matching rails were optional.

"Yes?" asked Lucien.

She nodded, thinking she would have given anything for just such a bed when she was a girl.

It was available as part of a suite with a chest of drawers, a small vanity and a nightstand. "Might as well get the whole set then," said Lucien.

"Oh, yes." Jean could just picture Amelia's delight at a bedroom set like this.

"Now, what else? Bed linens?"

"I think I saw them over here," said Jean, leading the way.

They looked over what was on offer.

"Something with animated characters or more generic?" asked Lucien.

"Amelia is currently fascinated by the characters from 'Frozen', but who knows how long that will last, and we don't know what Jia likes, so I'd say something with with a pattern of some kind. Floral maybe?"

They found a set with tiny pink and blue flowers scattered over a white background, and another with fine pink-and white stripes resembling seersucker. They also purchased a duvet that matched the canopy cover, and curtains of the same fabric. Jean would alter the length if necessary.

"Lamps?" Jean suggested, "or do you have some that would fit?"

"We definitely need lamps," Lucien insisted.

A matching pair of floor lamp and bureau lamp painted white with pink, lace-edged shades were added, and then Lucien found one for the bedside table that could serve as both a reading light and nightlight. In nightlight mode, it cast a field of twinkling stars onto the ceiling, and they could be made to rotate slowly. Jean thought any child would be delighted to be lulled to sleep in such a manner.

"I think that should do it," she said at last.

"Oh, no, one more very important item. A toy box. And, of course, some things to fill it."

"Of course," said Jean. "And a puppy?"

"If you think so," Lucien said, his brow wrinkling.

"I'm kidding," she told him with a laugh. "Next thing, you'll want to get them a pony."

"I thought the pony could wait until they're a little older."

This time it was Jean who wasn't entirely sure if he was serious.

They came across a beautifully carved and painted chest of white with pink flowers. The inside was lined with pink and white gingham. The unit on display was spilling over with soft dolls and stuffed animals. Jean's eye was immediately drawn to one of the smallest of them, a tiny plush hedgehog. It immediately brought to mind fond memories. She picked it up, a gentle smile on her face.

"I used to have one similar to this," she recalled. "Oh, how I loved that old thing. I used to carry it everywhere with me, even into my teens. It was like my lucky charm. I remember I even had it in my pocket when I took my SATs."

"And did it work?" asked Lucien, taking the small toy from her to have a closer look.

"I did very well on the tests, but I can't say for sure that it was due to my hedgehog. Sadly, I can't remember now whatever happened to him."

"If he was lucky for you then we should definitely get this little fellow for Jia and Amelia. Maybe some of those rag dolls, too, and that stuffed cat that looks like Scout."

As he settled up with the store and arranged for delivery of the items, Jean couldn't help but reflect that he seemed to be a new man now that he was busily engaged in doing something kind for people he loved. She so hoped that Li, if not her whole family, would make time for him during her visit to Los Angeles in a few months.


	35. Chapter 35

Slowly but surely Lucien began to adjust so that listening to the recording each morning had less and less impact. The day before his next session he had thrown off the recording's effects on his mood before noon. He and Jean spent much of the afternoon walking along the beach hand in hand. That evening's show was one of their best yet, as they relied heavily on songs that were among their favorites. Afterwards they shared their usual light dinner, then made passionate love before falling asleep entwined.

Jean woke up slowly in the morning, immediately aware that it was the day of Lucien's next session, one in which he would again need to relive his time in captivity. She expected to find him thoughtful and apprehensive about it, but instead he was leaning on one elbow, smiling down at her as he hummed a song that she didn't recognize.

"Good morning," she said softly, her voice still husky from sleep. "What's that you're humming?"

He leaned over to kiss her. "Good morning. That? It's an old pop song, one that seemed to be on the radio constantly when I was in the hospital in Germany. It used to drive me crazy."

"Oh? And now you're humming it?"

"It started running through my mind as I thought about how fortunate I am that you love me. The chorus goes...". He began to sing.

"_Everybody needs somebody_

_To spare the heartaches, to understand,_

_And everybody needs a lover like you,_

_I need a lover like you."_

"I need a lover like you, too," she told him before kissing him. "But I don't think I've ever heard that song. Who sang it?"

"Some Australian bloke, I think. The name escapes me. I've never heard him or the song over here, anyway."

She was reluctant to break his good mood, but she needed to know if it was genuine or if he was just trying to cover up how anxious he actually felt about the day ahead.

"How are you doing today?" she asked gently as she laced her fingers with his.

He kissed the hand that held his own. "I think I'm all right," he said, looking down to meet her gaze. "I know the session will be difficult, but I also know it'll take me one step closer to the end of therapy. And I know you'll be with me all along the way. That makes all the difference."

"Good," she said. "Just as it should be."

She couldn't help but reflect on their relationship. They had been together for a relatively short time, but already she couldn't imagine her life without him in it. Her personal life, her professional life and her sexual life were all entwined with his. They hadn't spoken at all about formalizing their relationship. She didn't even know if he still believed in the institution of marriage, after how poorly it had treated him in the past. At some point they'd need to have that discussion, but for now she was perfectly content with the current situation: knowing he loved her just as she loved him.

He kissed her again, the perfect way to end her reverie.

"How are you planning to spend the day?" Lucien asked her when their lips parted.

"I plan to spend the afternoon with you, or as much of it as you want me to. I thought I'd spend the morning cleaning my own place, even though I spend so little time there."

Before he could respond, his phone buzzed. "Excuse me," he whispered as he glanced at the screen. "Maman."

Praying it wasn't bad news, something he definitely didn't need at this moment, she held her breath as he answered. He spoke in French, of course, but his delighted smile told her it definitely wasn't bad.

When he ended the connection, his smile grew even wider. "Maman is coming to our show the day after tomorrow, and she's even convinced Dad to join her."

"Really? Doesn't he loathe our kind of music?" she asked.

"I suspect he's never heard much of it," said Lucien. "Maybe we can even surprise him into having a good time."

Jean wasn't convinced, but if Lucien was looking forward to it, who was she to complain?

* * *

As she did her cleaning, Jean's mind stayed on Lucien and what he was going through. She fervently hoped his father's appearance at the club would be just as he hoped - an opportunity to bridge the divide between the Blake men, for Geneviève's sake as well as Lucien's.

She stood on her porch, shaking the ever-present sand from a throw rug when she saw Mattie on her own porch, chatting happily into the phone. Speaking to Ned, no doubt. With all the help Mattie had provided to Lucien during his therapy, Jean decided she'd like to invite Mattie and Ned to the club as her guests. The same night as Lucien's parents might be good, encouraging Thomas to restrain himself.

She thought she'd better call Matthew, find out the procedure for securing guest admittance.

He answered immediately, probably not wanting the sound of the phone to disturb little Lucy.

"Matthew, it's Jean. I hope I didn't wake the baby."

"Hello, Jean. No, Lucy's fine. Is everything all right there?" he asked.

"As far as I know. Alice is with Lucien now."

"How was he this morning?"

"He was good. Much better than last week. I think he can see a sliver of light at the end of the tunnel now," said Jean.

"Let's hope he still sees it when the session is over," said Matthew. "Was there something I can do for you?"

"I wanted to invite a couple of guests to the show the night after tomorrow."

"The same night the major's parents are coming?"

"That's right. Mattie O'Brien knows them, so I thought she and her boyfriend Ned might like to join them. How do I go about getting them in as my guests?"

"Jean, I guess we didn't mention it to you, but you can comp up to four guests any time you want. Just let Charlie know their names and what night they're coming. In this case, I'll let him know, myself. If you ever need more than four, we can probably arrange that as well, with word in advance."

"That's very generous. Thank you, Matthew. Give Lucy a kiss for me."

With that settled, she hurried over to issue the invitation, which both Mattie and Ned readily accepted. Now all she had to do was decide what songs to sing.

* * *

She saw him only briefly before leaving for work, since the session went on much longer than the previous ones. As usual after a session, Lucien was subdued and somewhat solemn, but there was no sign of the prior week's depression. She gave him a gentle kiss and a bright smile before going.

At the club she first checked with Cec to be sure he'd be streaming her performance to Lucien, then she met with Terry to arrange her playlist for the evening's set. Since she had been given completely free rein to choose her songs, she decided she was going to sing nothing but love songs this evening. She knew it was highly unusual for a singer in a blues club, but as Paul McCartney had sung, what's wrong with that?

She was getting more comfortable with speaking to the audience now, so when Matthew introduced her, she took the stage and after the welcoming applause died down, she spoke into the microphone.

"Good evening. Thank you very much for coming. Tonight, I'm going to do something a bit different. This set is for all the lovers among you, past, present and future. If you've ever loved someone, are currently in love, or are still looking for love, I hope you'll hear something tonight that touches you deeply. Terry?"

And she launched into the first song, 'Romance in the Dark'. She mixed together a blend of standards, pop songs and classics blues tunes, singing each one directly to Lucien, whether or not she was looking toward Cec's phone that captured it all.

The prior week's scare had left her appreciating just how much he meant to her life, and to her heart. She'd been alone for a very long time since Christopher's death, but she didn't appreciate just how lonely she'd been until Lucien walked into her life and showed her that loneliness was not her natural state, not how she was meant to live.

As she moved from one song to the next, Jean found her spirits rising with each one until she felt filled to bursting with her love for that man. She could hardly wait to see him again.

She finished with what she'd begun to think of as their song, 'At Last'. The response to the set was all she could have hoped, except that the audience insisted on multiple encores, which normally would have exhilarated her, but at this moment she only wanted to go home to Lucien.

She gave them her best performance, remembering that these were people who had paid their hard-earned money to come this evening. But after she'd taken her final bow and thanked them all once again, she hurried backstage to change and take her leave.

As she drove along the coast, she had to admit that the nearly full moon and the brilliant stars shining above the ocean still took her breath away. Both majestic and romantic, the view made her want Lucien even more. She appreciated that her commute home at such a late hour guaranteed that traffic was minimal.

She pulled into Lucien's drive, got out and locked the car, then strode quickly around to the kitchen door at the rear of the house. As she approached the house, she heard him call softly to her, "I'm up here, and I would love to have you join me."

She looked upwards to see him standing on the porch off the bedroom, smiling down at her. "I'll be right there," she promised.

He had left the door unlocked for her. She went inside, made sure Scout was safely in her bed, then locked up and hurried to greet Lucien. It seemed that he was as anxious to see her as she was to get back to him.

She walked into the bedroom, and opened the French doors to see him standing there in the moonlight, and she couldn't help but feel that God had given this gift to her, this wonderful, generous, talented, beautiful man who would do anything in his power to make her happy.

He held out his arms to her, and she moved into his embrace, where he held her for a long moment before kissing her, and such a kiss it was. It felt as though he knew exactly how she was feeling at this moment because he felt it, too.

"Thank you," he whispered into her hair. "Thank you for all you do for me, and to me."

She smiled brightly at him. "I was just thinking that very thing about you."

"Were you? It must mean we're in tune."

"Perfect tune," she agreed, lacing her fingers with his.

Together they looked out onto the water. It should have been a completely peaceful moment, but she could feel a nervous energy radiating from Lucien. Had something new been raised in today's session, she wondered.

She was just about to ask him about it, when he turned to her, looking very serious. "Jean, I ... Well, there's something I wanted to ask you."

She raised an eyebrow to indicate she was listening, not knowing if she should be nervous or worried or scared. She couldn't recall the last time he'd been quite so solemn.

"I, well, _you_ have been so understanding and supportive through this whole process. You've seen me at my absolute worst and never shied away from any of it, when by all rights you should have run away as fast as you could," he said.

"I encouraged you to start this," she reminded him.

"Yes, and in ways you may not realize. You make me want to be better. To be the best I can be, because you deserve the best. I may not be all that you deserve, but I'll keep trying, especially if you're beside me. Will you be beside me? Jean, my love, will you marry me? It doesn't have to be right away, it can be whenever..."

She put a finger to his lips to quiet him and nodded. She didn't need to consider his proposal, even briefly. Her heart knew that she wanted him and would always want him. "Yes, nothing would make me happier than to be your wife, Lucien."

"Really?"

"Really," she assured him.

"Well, then, I think you'll be needing this," he said, taking a jeweler's box from his pocket.

His hands were shaking just a bit as he opened it to remove a ring consisting of an emerald solitaire surrounded by diamonds. He slipped it onto her finger, then looked for her approval.

The ring was breathtaking (if she even had any breath left to be taken), and she met his eyes to show him how happy she was. And then he swept her into his arms and spun around joyously.

All she could think was that they were now committed to each other for good. At last.

* * *

A/N: It seemed a good time to give them some real happiness, what with everything that's going on in the world. Please, stay safe, everyone.


	36. Chapter 36

In the morning Jean had to keep looking at her ring to remind herself that it was all real. But when she looked at her new fiancé, and the smile of delight perpetually on his lips, she knew it had happened.

"Good morning, my dear," he said softly as he leaned down to kiss her.

She returned it eagerly, and matters quickly escalated. They joined together, and their lovemaking seemed even deeper and more substantial, now that they'd committed their lives to each other.

In the afterglow she cuddled against him, her head on his shoulder and one hand smoothing over his broad chest. "What do you think? Should we tell the world our big news?" she asked him.

"I don't even want to think about the rest of the world at this moment," he murmured before dropping several quick kisses to the top of her head.

She smiled. "We could spend the day right here, couldn't we? Although I suppose we'd need to get up for something to eat at some point."

"And I need to listen to yesterday's session," he said with a grimace.

She pushed herself up against the headboard. "You haven't told me how it went? I was concerned at how long Alice was here. Did something go wrong?"

"Actually that was something going right," he said. "She was so pleased at how well I got through the second retelling of it all that we moved onto discussing the next stage."

"Really? I'm so proud of you," she said, leaning over to kiss him.

"It's all down to you, my dear," he insisted.

"Nonsense. If I played a part in it, then I'm glad, but you're the one who did all the hard work," she told him firmly. "Now, what does the next stage involve?"

"The next stage is facing up to all the things that trigger the episodes, things like fireworks, any sudden loud noises really."

"So will you be going to a shooting range or a violent war movie or what?"

"That's what we were discussing," he told her. "The best way to go about it. Alice is going to see about getting some recordings so that we can work through it in a private, safe way."

"That sounds reasonable. What do you think?"

"I think if I could get through reliving the events themselves, there's no reason I can't manage the rest of it. I intend to put the past behind me, all of it, and focus on the future with my soon-to-be wife."

"Do you want it to be soon, the wedding?" Jean asked.

"I'd do it tomorrow, if we could, but you should have the kind of ceremony and celebration that you want. If you tell me what that is, I'll do my best to make it happen."

"I'll think about it, and let you know. Would you mind terribly if I told you I'd like to be married in a Catholic Church?"

He smiled gently. "I thought you might. As long as it's sturdily built so there's no danger of the roof falling in when I step inside, I think we could manage that. But I'm afraid you'll have to handle most of the details of that one."

"Yes, of course. Thank you," she told him. "Do you think we can arrange it so that Li can attend?"

"I have absolutely no idea," Lucien admitted. "I'll let her know we're engaged and ask her about her schedule."

"Maybe we could have an engagement party at least while she's in the city for her appearance at the Hollywood Bowl. There isn't enough time to arrange a church wedding that quickly, but it would be lovely if we can make her feel a part of it. What do you think?"

"I think you're very thoughtful and kind, but I knew that already. One of the many, many reasons I love you and want to share the rest of my life with you." He kissed her again. "As soon as we let those closest to us know about our engagement, I'll call Yamashiro to see if we can book a private room for a party that weekend."

"Perfect," said Jean, thinking it was only right that they celebrate their engagement at the site of their first date.

He was silent, his brow furrowed in thought.

"What is it?" Jean asked.

"I was thinking, is there any chance Christopher and Jack and their significant others could be our guests at the club tomorrow night?"

"With your parents? You want to give them the news all at once?"

"If you have no objection. Matthew and Alice will be there, and Cec."

"And Mattie and Ned," Jean added.

"Ah, good. Is there anyone else you think needs to be included?"

"You need to be sure you tell your daughter before the news becomes public."

"Yes, I'll call her first thing tomorrow morning." He smiled tenderly. "I so much want the two of you to meet and become acquainted."

"I'm looking forward to that as well," said Jean, although in truth she was somewhat apprehensive at the prospect. The young woman was a world-renowned classical musician. She couldn't help but wonder what Li would make of her when they did meet.

"I'll call Jack and Christopher now," she said.

"And I'll make us something to eat. Then I'd better do my homework for Alice."

"Thank you, Lucien. I'll be down soon."

She called Jack first, and he readily agreed to an evening at the club with his girlfriend. Christopher, in the middle of packing up his home for the impending move to Las Vegas, took more convincing. She told him that he and Ruby deserved a break from the work, and finally managed to talk him into it without revealing the reason why.

By the time she got down to the kitchen Lucien had prepared omelettes, coffee and fresh-squeezed orange juice. "This looks lovely," she said as she sat down and he joined her.

"While I was fixing it, I was thinking of all the things we'll need to decide," he said, pouring the juice into glasses.

"Aside from the wedding itself?"

"Yes. As I said, I'll leave the details about the sort of wedding you want up to you. But we'll need to decide where we want to live, for instance."

She looked up at him. "You don't want to live here?" she asked.

"I thought you might want to think about starting afresh, somewhere that isn't yours or mine, but _ours_."

She reached over to take his hand and tangle her fingers with his. "That's very thoughtful of you, but I love this house, Lucien. I'd like to stay right here, unless it holds too many bad memories for you."

"No, I love this house as well, but I wanted to give you the option."

"Then it's settled," she said firmly. "But if you have no objection, though, I'd like to plant some flowers. I may need to bring in some soil to make a bed. They won't grow in sand."

"There are actually window boxes for many of the windows. I took them down when it became clear that I can't grow plants to save my life, but the boxes themselves and the frames to hold them are in the attic. if you think that would work I can bring them down for you, and hang them after you finish planting."

"Really? That would be lovely," said Jean. She thought begonias would really brighten up the exterior.

"I'll take care of it as soon as we finish eating," he promised. "Then you can see what you're in for and get the seeds or seedlings you want."

"Perfect," she told him. "Now, what else do we need to decide?"

"About the club," he said somewhat hesitantly.

"Yes? What about it?"

"If you want to cut back on your schedule, or even stop working altogether, well, there's no need for you to continue unless you want to, after we're married."

"Would you prefer that I stop working, Lucien?"

"I would prefer that you have the option to do whatever you want. You've had some difficult times, and you've worked at jobs that weren't exactly fulfilling because you needed to. But you don't have to do anything you don't want to do now, if you'll allow me to do that for you, at least."

She hadn't really given much thought to his wealth. She appreciated that she would no longer have to worry about paying the rent or the utility bills, but that had no bearing on her love for the man. "It's sweet of you to give me the choice. But I've been making my own way for many years."

"I know you have, my dear, but that's the point: you were forced to do that by circumstances beyond your control, but those circumstances no longer apply."

"Lucien, I didn't agree to marry you so I could live a life of leisure," she said stiffly.

"Are we having our first fight?" he asked, his eyes narrowed with concern.

At once she felt guilty for letting her pride get the better of her. "Hardly a fight. A difference of opinion, that's all. We're bound to have those from time to time, no matter how much we love each other."

"I suppose it had to happen sooner or later," he said. "You know I only ever want the best for you, whatever you decide that is."

"Yes, I know that," she assured him. "But I do want to work regularly. I love singing for a crowd of people. Maybe we can take some time off together regularly, though. It would be nice to have an evening out every now and then, dinner and a movie, maybe. As long as we don't leave Matthew in the lurch with no entertainment."

"As a matter of fact, I have an idea for someone to take over for us eventually, if we sign a contract with Tony and wind up going out on the road."

"Is that right? Anyone I might know?" Jean asked.

"I may get this person up on stage with us tomorrow night actually."

"Now you've made me curious."

"And on that note, I'll go up to the attic and see about those window boxes," said Lucien, giving her a quick kiss.

"Can you put them out on the porch, please? That should give me plenty of room to work, and while you're doing that, I'll clean up here."

There proved to be a dozen boxes, one for most of the windows in the house. Jean could just picture what it would look like with boxes of begonias in bloom all around. Lucien offered to go with her to a local florist who happened to have a greenhouse where she could get the potting soil she'd need, as well as either seeds or the actual plants if she preferred. They would leave after he finished listening to the prior day's session.

"Do you want me to stay with you while you listen?" she asked him.

"I always _want_ you to stay with me, but it isn't necessary today. Thank you for the offer, though."

"Well, then, I'll get started cleaning the window boxes so they'll be ready for planting."

She took her time, wiping off the dust that had accumulated during their years residing in the attic and cleaning the traces of old dirt that still clung to the insides. She wanted to be sure they were ready for an entirely fresh start. With a dozen of them to do she lost track of the time. When she finally glanced at the clock, she knew Lucien's replay of the session should be over by now. Strangely, she thought she could hear classical music coming from downstairs, but it wasn't coming over the housewide audio system. It wasn't like Lucien to put music on to play and keep it to himself.

She washed her hands and went to investigate. As she descended the stairs, she could hear that it was a single piano playing Beethoven's _Ode to Joy_. She was no expert, but it sounded amazing to her, played with utter... joy.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she peered around the open door to see Lucien sitting at his baby grand piano, playing it with his eyes closed and the widest smile she'd ever seen on his face. She stood and watched him radiating such happiness at finally being reunited with his first love, classical music. A tiny voice inside her wondered if the blues would now take a back seat in his affections, but then she recalled that the blues for him were a connection to his dear late brother Tommy. Surely there was plenty of room in his heart for both genres. And how could she be anything but delighted for him when he was clearly so ecstatic at this development?

He finished the piece, then opened his eyes. When he spotted her, his smile bloomed once more. "Look, Jean," he said, holding his hands out in front of him. There was not a single tremor. "It's returned to me. And I owe it all to you."


	37. Chapter 37

Jean thought Lucien might want to stay and spend the whole afternoon playing classical music, but he had promised they would go to the greenhouse to get planting materials, and he wasn't one to ignore a promise.

In the car on the way, she asked him, "How do you know this man anyway? Since you tell me you can't grow anything, I wouldn't have expected you to know someone who runs a greenhouse."

"I met him through the foundation. He does the flowers for the gala and anything else we need," said Lucien. "I also use his services when I send flowers to my mother - birthdays, Mother's Day."

Jean couldn't help but smile. Of course he was a thoughtful son. More thoughtful than her own sons, she had to admit. And if this establishment was as good as Lucien said, she thought they could use them for the wedding flowers.

They pulled up to a storefront that read 'Manos Florist and Live Plants'.

"The greenhouse is out back," Lucien explained, "but Nick or his daughter Maria should be behind the counter.

"His wife?" Jean wondered.

"I'm afraid she passed away when Maria was very young. Nick raised the girl on his own, and he did a marvelous job. Maria is a lovely girl, smart, funny and determined. I'm quite sure you'll like her."

He held the door for her as they went inside.

Jean was somewhat surprised on meeting Mister Manos. He was about as different from Lucien as it was possible to be. The man seldom smiled (except when speaking of his daughter), and was rather rough around the edges, but he seemed honest and he certainly knew his plants. He spent a good deal of time with Jean, recommending the proper soil and nutrients, and he made her promise to let him know if she ran into any problems.

"Would you like me to have this delivered?" he asked when he was ringing up their purchase. "You wouldn't want to risk having one of the bags of topsoil break in that fancy car of yours, Lucien."

"What do you think, Jean?"

"I wasn't going to start planting today anyway," said Jean, glancing at her watch. "I'm going to have to head for the club soon. We might as well have it delivered."

Manos interrupted. "The club? You aren't Jean Beazley the singer, by any chance?"

Jean smiled broadly and glanced over at Lucien, whose grin was even wider. "I am," she said.

"It's a small world," said Manos. "It seems my daughter is dating your son. Jack has invited her to see you perform tomorrow night."

"Is that right? Jack said he was bringing a girl that he was crazy about, wanted me to meet her," said Jean. "It must be a big deal because he's never introduced a girlfriend to me before. And Lucien has told me what a wonderful girl Maria is. I'm looking forward to meeting her." She shared a pleased look with Lucien.

That brought a smile to the face of the lugubrious man. "She's a good girl. I want only the best for her. Jack is a business executive, is that right?"

"Yes, he and a friend started a company, and it's just beginning to grow much bigger," said Jean. Lucien had been pleased to tell her that Patrick's reports on Jack's firm were positive, practically glowing reviews.

"That's good, then," said Manos, nodding his approval.

"And now we really have to go. Thank you for your help, Mister Manos."

"Nick, good to see you as always," said Lucien as they took their leave.

When they reached home, Lucien accompanied her upstairs where she would shower and get ready for work. He was just as delighted as she was about Jack and Maria.

"They'll be good for each other," was his assessment, and she agreed.

As she began to undress, he started to as well.

"As enticing as you always are, and as much as I enjoy taking a shower with you," she said, kissing him, "I'll be late if we do this now."

"Is this how it is, now that we're engaged?" he asked, pouting, before he laughed. "I'll use the one in the guest room. I thought I'd go to the club tonight. To see you, of course, and I also want to speak with Alice."

"Tell her the good news about your breakthrough?" she asked.

"I think she deserves to know, after all her hard work with me."

"And all your hard work with her," Jean reminded him. "I'm so proud of you, my love."

He paused in his undressing to reach out and pull her close. "I have you to thank most of all," he insisted. "You gave me the courage and the strength to undertake this."

"Nonsense," she said, but with a smile on her face. She knew just how brave and strong he was - Matthew Lawson's life was proof of that. Perhaps she had inspired him to remember how strong he actually was, and if so, she'd accept some of the credit for his recovery.

She initiated the kiss that ensued, and Lucien was only too willing to follow her lead. It would have escalated if she hadn't pulled back gently before giving him another quick peck. "Work, remember?" she said.

"Maybe I should have a word with your boss," said Lucien with a mock frown.

She gave him another kiss before saying, "Aren't you one of my bosses?"

He laughed. "I'll have a word with myself then while you take your shower."

As she showered, Jean couldn't help but reflect on how well things were going in her life at the moment. The career she'd always dreamed about was within her grasp. Her financial worries were at a minimum. Jack seemed to be settling down at last, in both his professional and personal lives. Yes, Christopher and Ruby were moving out of state soon, but they'd still be close enough for a day-trip visit, and what's more she'd have Amelia for a whole week while they moved. (Christopher had said they'd bring her with them to the club the following night, and Jean and Lucien would take her home from there.) And most of all, she was engaged to a kind, generous, funny, clever man who loved her just as much as she adored him. The tiny superstitious part of her wondered at the price she might have to pay for so much happiness.

* * *

When they walked into the club together, Jean saw Alice frown at the sight of Lucien.

"I thought we had an agreement," she began.

"We do, and I'm not here to work," he insisted. "I'm here to see the show. I'm told you have a wonderfully talented and beautiful singer performing tonight."

"That's right," said Alice, not looking any happier. "But now tell me why you're really here."

"How about I show you instead," Lucien told her. He walked over to the piano and sat down at the keyboard. He paused for just a moment, trying to decide what to play, Jean thought. And then with a shrug, he decided to go big, and the dramatic opening notes of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony filled the room. But he continued to play, as Alice stared at him in wonder. When he reached a stopping point, he held his hands straight out in front of himself, and they were perfectly steady.

"Impressive," said Matthew. "Congratulations, Major." He strode forward to shake Lucien's hand.

With her usual straightforward manner, Alice asked what Jean herself had wondered. "Well done. You've earned this with all your hard work, Lucien. And now that you've succeeded, what comes next? Do you resume your career in classical music?"

"I hadn't really thought about it," he admitted. "But, no, I don't think so. Jean and I have a dream of our own. That's why I finally agreed to go through with this therapy. That dream hasn't changed. But now I have additional options."

He began to play a classical piece that sounded somewhat familiar to Jean and then segued into a boogie-woogie style song.

Matthew growled. "Stealing music from _Groundhog Day_ now?"

"Very good," said Lucien pointing at his old friend. "The first part was Rachmaninoff, by the way. But it proves my point. Options."

"While you two have at it, I'm going to get things ready for Amelia," said Jean. "As a reminder, Matthew, she'll be staying with us for a week beginning tomorrow, so she'll be sleeping in the dressing room while I'm on stage."

"And Lucy will join her, with me watching over both of them," Alice added. "Jean, let me help you rearrange things in there."

As the two women headed for the back stage area, a small cry was heard from Matthew's office upstairs. Clearly Lucy had awakened and wanted attention.

"You go ahead, I'll get her," said Lucien to the women, and he bounded up the stairs. Lucy's cries ceased at once, and she was chortling happily when he carried her back down.

Alice took her from him and followed Jean back to the dressing room. "You two seem to have the magic touch with my daughter," she said. "No matter how upset Lucy is, she calms down immediately when you or Lucien pick her up."

"I'm sure it's a combination of experience and luck," Jean told her, although Lucien was particularly good with Amelia as well.

In a way it was a shame that they wouldn't have children of their own. Time was against them, especially as they were on the threshold of launching new careers. Still, she supposed they had better discuss it at some point. Motherhood, if it did happen, would be so very different this time, without having to worry about putting food on the table or affording rent bills.

"You look deep in thought," Alice noted. "Is everything all right? You're happy about this recent development in Lucien's recovery?"

"What? Oh, yes, of course. You should have seen him when he discovered he could play again. He was like a child finding a long lost favorite toy. No, I was just thinking..." She caught herself, not wanting to reveal the change in their status until tomorrow night when everyone would be there together.

She recovered her near fumble. "I was thinking of all the things I still have to do to get ready for Amelia's stay."

"Anything I can help with?" Alice asked.

"I don't think so, but thank you."

* * *

An hour later when she walked onto the stage, the first thing she did was look for Lucien. She spotted him sitting at the bar where he'd obviously been speaking with Cec, but now she had his full attention. She smiled at him and he returned it with one of his own, then he put his hand up to his chest and tapped two fingers over his heart.

With Terry picking up on her cues, she changed up her playlist to sing mostly happy songs, ones that matched her mood. And to close, of course, she chose what she thought of as their song, _At Last._

When she had finished, Lucien was immediately off his barstool to stand and applaud. As she bowed to the audience she kept her gaze locked to his, wanting him to know that this performance had been especially for him.

She washed off her stage makeup and changed her clothes as quickly as she could. Somehow since they'd become engaged she could hardly stand to be away from him. She ran a brush through her hair and hurried out to see him.

He was waiting, of course, and opened his arms wide for a hug when she approached. She was happy to oblige, running her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck.

"You were marvelous, even more marvelous than usual," he told her.

"And you need a haircut, unless you're planning to grow it out," she replied.

He reached up a hand to smooth his hair back down. "Yes, I know. My barber's been away on holiday. I've been counting the days until he returns. Day after tomorrow."

"Thankfully Amelia is past her hair-pulling phase or you might be in trouble," she teased.

"Best not to tempt her, in any case," said Lucien. "Now, my dear, shall we head home?"

As usual, there was little traffic at that time of night. Classical music station KUSC was playing on the radio as Lucien drove. She watched his fingers move across the steering wheel in time with the music, playing air piano no doubt.

"I feel guilty that I'm so woefully ignorant when it comes to this type of music," she admitted. "Do you think you could give me a crash course? That would make it easier when we're deciding on music for the wedding."

He glanced at her, a wide smile on his face. "It would be my absolute pleasure," he assured her.

She saw him glance in the rear view mirror and frown slightly as both hands grasped the wheel firmly. "What is it?" she asked, turning around in her seat to look behind them. There was another car following very close. It looked to have two men inside, but that's about all she could tell.

"I think we're being followed by the police," he said. He nodded toward his phone where it lay on the console between them. "Can you please put that in the holder and turn it on for me?"

Her heart began to race as she clicked the device into the dashboard holder and tapped in his passcode.

"Siri, begin police recording," he instructed.

She saw her own phone messaging app activate a moment later, and the recording from his phone's camera showed up on her own screen.

"Just in case they decide to 'lose' or break mine, I wanted another copy of any encounter somewhere else," he explained.

"Have they been harassing you since the incident with Ned?"

"Let's just say they've made their presence known from time to time," he told her, as his eyes continued to flick between the road ahead and the view behind.

"Can't you or your attorney report them? After all, you did nothing wrong when...". She broke off as Lucien stiffened, and the red and blue lights on the trailing car's rooftop began to flash.

She felt genuine fear as Lucien activated his signal and slowed down to steer the car over to the shoulder of the road.

But the police car didn't pull over with them. Instead it roared on past with its siren shrieking.

When it had disappeared around a bend in the highway, both of them let out a shaky breath. "I suppose they've gone to do the job they're actually paid to do," said Jean.

"Indeed," said Lucien.

She noticed that he continued to stay on high alert until they had arrived safely in their own drive. Only then did his smile return, as they made their way inside the house together.


	38. Chapter 38

After a night of making love and holding each other closely, Jean and Lucien awoke to a beautiful Southern California morning, to a sky of relentless blue and a gentle breeze wafting in off the water. The scent of jacaranda and orange blossoms filled the air, as in typical fashion, everything seemed to have burst into bloom overnight.

The sudden onset of spring served to make Jean even more eager to get her begonias planted and the window boxes affixed into place. The greenhouse had delivered the supplies the evening before, so as soon as they had finished breakfast, Lucien went down to the music room to listen to his therapy recording and Jean went out onto the porch to begin planting.

She had finished a few of the boxes when she heard piano music drifting faintly up the stairs. Brushing her hands off and wiping them on her gardening apron, she went down to speak with him. She paused in the doorway to enjoy the look of total contentment on Lucien's face as he played.

He looked up to see her and flashed a brilliant smile. "Is this bothering you? Shall I stop?" he asked.

"Absolutely not. I was wondering if you could patch it into the audio system so I could really enjoy it," she told him.

That earned an even bigger smile from him. He opened a cabinet, pulled out a professional-looking microphone, plugged it into the sound deck, and set it atop the piano. Switching it on, he leaned into it and said softly, "Ladies and gentlemen, for my next number I'll be playing Chopin, from his _Spring Waltz."_

"Very appropriate," she told him. She blew him a kiss and retreated back up the stairs as he began playing.

As she returned to her planting, the music surrounded her, making her feel almost as if it were Lucien's arms around her. When he finished that piece, he told her about it. "Chopin was a piano virtuoso, and he wrote almost exclusively for that instrument. Because of his virtuosity much of what he composed is very challenging from a technical standpoint. He was born in Poland, but spent most of his adult life in France. He was one of the leaders of what's called the Romantic era of classical music. And speaking of romance, Chopin had a very famous relationship with the French writer known as George Sand."

Jean smiled to herself. It seemed Lucien was taking his promise to teach her about this kind of music quite seriously.

"This next piece is by Sergei Rachmaninov, from his Piano Concerto Number Two. Rachmaninov is renowned for his melodies. I think you may recognize some passages from it."

And again he began to play.

This continued until she had finished with all the window boxes, when she asked for his help in carrying them around the house to set them in the frames. Jean had to admit it was quite alluring to see him flex his muscles as he carried the heavy boxes to their destinations.

Then she tidied up the room they'd prepared for Amelia, and over lunch they discussed the evening's show they would perform for all the people they loved.

* * *

"Why don't we leave for the club a little earlier than usual?" Lucien suggested.

Jean arched an eyebrow. "Do you need more time to agonize over whether to wear a tie for your mother?" she teased.

"Very funny. I thought Christopher and Ruby might like to bring Amelia early so she could get settled down to sleep closer to her usual bedtime," he insisted.

There was something a bit too casual about his response, Jean thought. He was up to something, but since all his surprises had been good ones, she decided to let him have his secret. She gave him a bit of side-eye to let him know she wasn't fooled before she responded. "I'll call and let them know they can come whenever they're ready."

"Thank you, Jean."

When they arrived at the club, he walked her back to her dressing room, where he gave her a long, slow kiss which she thoroughly enjoyed. As she used the pad of her thumb to wipe a trace of lipstick from his mouth, she said, "You know, once Amelia leaves, there's really no reason we can't share this dressing room. Let Matthew have his office back."

"You're absolutely right. We do at home, don't we?"

"Exactly," said Jean. She ran the palms of her hands down his chest. "And in case you're still agonizing about it, no tie tonight."

He laughed. "No tie it is. Now I'll leave you to it." He gave her a quick peck on the cheek before walking away. She watched him go, enjoying the sight of him from behind. He really filled out his jeans nicely.

As she was opening her dressing room door, she glanced toward him once more and saw Charlie Davis approach him. They exchanged a few words, and Lucien gestured in her direction. He started just a bit when he saw her watching him, but then he gave her a small wave before hurrying away with Charlie.

Jean had just finished dressing when she heard a knock on her door, followed by a high-pitched squeal of "Gamma!"

She wore a big smile as she greeted Christopher, Ruby, and her darling Amelia.

"Mum," said Christopher as he kissed her cheek. "Lucien said it was okay to come back here."

"Of course it's okay," she said, taking Amelia from him and covering her small face with kisses.

"You look lovely, mum," said Ruby. "Thank you so much for agreeing to watch her. It would be impossible to go house hunting with Amelia in tow."

"And not much fun for her, either," said Jean. "Come in, and we'll see if we can't get her settled down. We can have some tea, and you can tell me what you're looking for in a house."

They followed her inside, and Jean sat with Ruby on her lap.

Typically Christopher did not ask why she had insisted they be at the club this night. It was Ruby who approached the matter. "You were very insistent that we come here tonight. Is something going on? Not that we aren't happy to hear you sing any time, of course."

"I don't mean to be mysterious, but if you can wait until the show begins, you'll find out," Jean promised.

"All right, then, we have a bit of our own news," said Ruby. She nodded to Christopher.

"It seems Amelia is going to be a big sister soon," said Christopher. "We just found out that we're expecting a baby sometime in September."

"Baby," Amelia announced.

Ruby laughed. "That's why we can't keep it a secret. Amelia has been saying it constantly."

On cue, Amelia repeated, "Baby."

"That's wonderful news," said Jean, excitedly. "I'm so happy for all three of you!"

"We're pretty happy too," said Christopher, managing one of his rare smiles.

"It's a good thing we found out before we settled on a new house," said Ruby. "Now we'll need at least four bedrooms, including one for you, mum."

Jean's eyes filled with tears. "Between this darling," she said, hugging Amelia, "and the new one, I just may visit enough that you'll get tired of me."

"Never," Ruby vowed.

They chatted until Amelia was nodding off, which occurred just before Jean was due on stage. The toddler was placed in her crib, and her parents excused themselves to go out front and find their table. Once Alice arrived with Lucy, Jean thanked her and went out to her fiancé.

In a departure from their normal routine, Jean and Lucien took the stage together, hand in hand. Jean took hold of the microphone, waiting for the applause to die down.

"Good evening, and thank you for coming," she began. "This is a special night for Lucien and me. Many of our favorite people in the whole world are here tonight: our families, closest friends, and of course, all of you, our fans. And so we'd like you to be the first to know that Lucien has asked me to marry him, and naturally I accepted."

She paused as raucous applause broke out. While waiting for it to die down, she studied the faces of her sons. She expected Christopher to be happy for her, and he certainly appeared to be. He exchanged a smile with Ruby and they both nodded knowingly.

When she looked at Jack he was looking back at her, seemingly studying her. She gave him a big smile to show just how happy she was. Then the pretty girl next to him (Maria Manos, Jean assumed) leaned over to say something to him, and Jack responded to her. The girl grinned at him and punched his arm playfully. Only then did Jack smile back at Jean and nod his approval.

As the applause continued, Lucien pulled their clasped hands to his mouth and kissed them, and then leaned over to kiss her lips, which ratcheted up the cheers.

She glanced at Lucien's parents. Just as she suspected, Geneviève had tears of happiness in her eyes. She blew kisses to the both of them. Thomas was more difficult for Jean to read, but he didn't seem upset, at least.

Lucien indicated that he would like to speak, so she gladly handed the microphone to him.

He made a motion toward Cec, who began pulling bottles of champagne from the cooler and handing them to the waiters and busboys. In no time at all, everyone in the room held a filled glass. Cec himself brought them to Lucien and Jean. So that was Lucien's secret, Jean thought.

"I ask all of you to join me, please, in drinking a toast to my beautiful, clever, and supremely talented fiancée. To Jean Beazley."

"To Jean Beazley," they all echoed, including her sons, who both stood to toast her.

Then Matthew stood and held up his glass. "To Lucien and Jean," he said. "May they have many happy years together."

"Lucien and Jean," were the cries.

When they had finished the toast, Lucien bowed to Matthew and the audience. "Thank you," he said. "And in honor of the occasion, everything is on the house this evening. Please, enjoy yourselves responsibly. And now, I think it's time for some music, don't you?"

Again he kissed her hand, and then moved over to the piano and began to play. His playing was even more brilliant than usual, Jean decided. In several of his solos, he worked in classical riffs that made the songs feel new and fresh to Jean, which in turn elevated her vocals. It was the most fun she'd ever had on a stage, knowing that the people she cared most about were there to see it.

When they reached the planned intermission, Lucien leaned into the microphone above his keyboard. "Jean and I are going to take a break now. While we do, we'll leave you in the hands of a very talented young singer who writes much of his own music. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you, Ned Simmons."

He reached behind his piano for a guitar case as Ned stood up, squeezed Mattie's hand, and walked up onto the stage. Lucien handed the guitar to Ned, and the two of them exchanged a few words, with Lucien grinning and Ned managing a shy smile. Then Lucien walked over to take Jean's hand as they went offstage.

As soon as they were off to the side, out of the stage lighting, Lucien paused and said softly, "I'd like to listen."

"Me, too," said Jean. Obviously Ned was whom he'd meant when he spoke of someone to take over at the club when they weren't performing.

Ned began with what was surely an original song, about feeling alone in a world that sees you as different. It felt contemporary, yet had traditional blues rhythms and tones. A bit like Keb' Mo' in style, but the voice was all his own.

"He's very good," Jean said over the applause as he finished the song.

"Yes, he is," Lucien agreed. "He would like to play in one of the clubs at his uncle's casino, but the uncle doesn't think his patrons want to hear this kind of music."

"His uncle is making a big mistake," said Jean firmly.

"His loss is our gain," agreed Lucien.

Ned sang another original song, then moved onto a more traditional song, Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee's "I'm a Stranger Here". Gradually the band joined in. First Lou Dixon's bass picked it up, then a rhythm guitar, and soon several others. That brought the audience in as well, clapping to the catchy beat.

Jean leaned forward to catch a glimpse of Mattie, who seemed to be radiating delight in Ned's success. They made a lovely couple, she thought, with Mattie's vivacious confidence and Ned's shy thoughtfulness.

Christopher and Ruby seemed to be enjoying themselves, too. Christopher had always liked this kind of music, unlike Jack, who was more into metal and grunge, but even he seemed to be having a good time. Jean wondered how much that was down to Maria, who looked to be really into the music.

As for Lucien's parents, Geneviève was clearly having a great time, clapping along with the music, while Thomas slowly seemed to be unwinding. Perhaps it was because of the happiness his beloved wife displayed, but little by little he looked to be joining in the spirit of the evening.

"I'm so glad we decided to announce it like this," Jean told Lucien. "Sharing a celebration with the people that mean the most to us."

"Maybe we should think about something similar for our wedding," said Lucien. "Make it a celebration for not only the people we care about, but for those who've supported us and care about us, too."

"That could work. A private ceremony for those closest to us, followed by a big public party. It would take a lot of planning, though," she said, frowning.

"Jean, Jean, there are people who do that for a living," he reminded her. "We tell them what we want, and they make it happen."

"I suppose you know someone?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. You can be involved as much or as little as you want."

"I think I'd like to plan the private one myself, and then we could make decisions on the big one together, all right?"

"Perfect," he said. "And now Ned is finishing his set. Ready to go back out there?"

"Yes, let's," said Jean. She took his hand once more, and together they returned to the stage.

* * *

The rest of the show was just as much fun for Jean. The crowd was in the highest of spirits by this time, so much so that when she and Lucien had finished their third _encore_ there was still a great deal of whistling and calling for more. No one seemed to want it to end.

Lucien took charge. "Thank you all for a truly memorable evening. Jean and I are very grateful that you were here to share it with us. Good night, and please get home safely."

He signaled to the band that they could leave as well, and then he began to play Leadbelly's 'Good Night, Irene' very softly as the club's patrons headed for the door. Jean sat on the piano bench beside him as everyone filed out.

Soon only the invited guests and the staff remained. Lucien finished the song, and then they went to join their family and friends.

While Lucien greeted his parents, Jean headed for Jack. She very much wanted to meet Maria Manos.

"Mum, you were amazing," Jack told her as he kissed her cheek. "Even better than the last time I was here. You're really growing as a performer. Is it everything you hoped it would be?"

"It's much more than I ever hoped," Jean admitted. During all those years of manual labor, dreaming of becoming a singer, she had never envisioned she'd find someone like Lucien to share it all with her.

"Good. You deserve it," he told her. He stretched out a hand toward his girlfriend. "Mum, this is the girl I told you about. Maria, this is my mother, Jean Beazley, superstar."

"Well, maybe for tonight," said Jean with a laugh. "How do you do, Maria. It's lovely to meet you. Lucien raves about you, and I'm sure your father mentioned to you that we met."

"He did, and he was very impressed," said Maria, "and not many people impress my father. Thank you for inviting us tonight."

"We're both happy you could come."

As Maria moved over to greet Lucien, Jean leaned closer to Jack. "If it means anything, I approve," she whispered.

Jack only smiled. Jean was sure that her disapproval would never make Jack give her up, but she hoped her approval would please him, at least.

Lucien came over to them with an arm around Maria's shoulders. He shook hands with Jack. "I need to congratulate you on your good taste," he announced. "I've known Maria since she was a small child. She's a remarkable woman."

Jack remained deadpan. "I've known Mum since _I _was a small child. She's a remarkable woman, too. So I guess I should congratulate _you _on your good taste." He broke into a laugh. "Seriously, congratulations. I've never seen my mother so happy, and you must be the reason."

"I hope I am," said Lucien.

"Oh, you are," Jean assured him, taking his hand and squeezing it.

Likewise, Jack took Maria's hand. "We're just going to wish Chris and Ruby well with their house hunting."

"It was great to meet you, Mrs. Beazley. Thank you for a wonderful evening.," said Maria as Jack led her away.

"So, it seems we have the blessing of both your sons," said Lucien. "That must be a relief to you."

"If they had not approved, it wouldn't have changed my mind, but, yes, it is a relief that we won't have to deal with that. What about your parents?"

"Maman is over the moon. She wanted to know why it took me so long, since she apparently knew we were meant to be together since the first time she met you."

"That's sweet," said Jean. "And your father?"

"You remember how I told you that his opinion of you would make absolutely no difference to me?"

Jean felt her heart sink. She had hoped Thomas had turned a corner in his attitude toward his son. "So you're saying he doesn't approve?"

"The first thing he asked me was if you'd signed a pre-nup yet."

"He thinks I'm a gold digger," Jean said indignantly.

"I know you aren't, and so does my mother. Either Dad will come around or he'll be out of my life. Again. It isn't like I'll miss him anyway. We'll just be patient and let Maman work on him, yes?"

She sighed. She didn't want to be the reason father and son were at odds once more. Smiling brightly at Lucien, she said, "I want to say hello to your mother."

As she expected, he followed her over to his parents, intending to protect her against his father, she was certain.

She kissed the older woman's cheek, and Geneviève reached to clasp both of Jean's hands.

"Such happy news, _cherie,_" said Geneviève. "It will do my heart so much good to see _mon petit_ married to the kind of woman he deserves."

Jean found it endearing that this sweet woman called the tall, strong man who towered over her 'my little one'. Then again, as a mother herself, she often looked at her own grown sons and pictured them as the small boys they had once been. She looked forward to the day this lovely woman would officially be a part of her family.

She was at a loss as to how she should greet Thomas Blake. A handshake seemed impersonal, while a kiss on the cheek seemed much _too_ personal with a man she scarcely knew. But with what she'd learned of the man, it would be up to her to make the effort if they were going to bridge the gap between them.

"Lucien and I are so glad you came tonight," she began. "Has he told you the good news about his music?"

"Oh?" said Thomas, looking to Lucien.

"Yes, thanks to my beautiful bride-to-be, I can play classical piano once more," Lucien told him. "Jean encouraged me to work through the therapy that Alice suggested, and she was by my side, helping me every step of the way."

"Is that right?" said Thomas. "Well, then, you have my gratitude."

"No gratitude necessary," said Jean. "I could see how much Lucien wanted it, and he did all the difficult parts."

"I wouldn't have made it this far without her in my corner," Lucien insisted.

"Do you think you'll tour again?" asked Thomas

Geneviève warned him. "Thomas..."

He held his hands up in surrender. "I'm just wondering what this means for his future."

"I don't think I want to do that type of concert work any more," said Lucien, "but I could see myself returning to the recording studio after a few months of practice."

Jean noticed he deliberately didn't tell his father about their future plans of touring for Tony. She thought it might only cause more friction anyway, when Lucien was trying to show Thomas a side of Jean he might appreciate.

"Well, then, if I can be of help once you're ready, don't hesitate to ask," said Thomas. "And again, congratulations, to both of you."

As they walked away, Jean nudged her fiancé. "Well played."

He laughed. "I have my moments. But really I just followed your lead."

They made their way through their guests, accepting well wishes. They also congratulated Ned on his performance, and it was agreed that he would begin at the club regularly, starting at one night a week for the time being.

At last they reached Christopher and Ruby, who were preparing to leave.

"I have the car seat and the rest of Amelia's things in our car," Christopher explained.

"Perfect," said Lucien. "Why don't you and I go out now and transfer everything to my car? We'll be back in a few minutes."

"We'll be in the dressing room," Jean told them.

When the men had gone, Ruby said, "Mum, I'm so happy for you. Lucien seems like a wonderful man, and it's obvious that he loves you very much. And Amelia adores him."

"I think I knew I was falling in love with him the first time I saw him with Amelia," Jean confessed. She leaned closer. "Ruby, my dear, I can't tell you how happy it makes me to see you and Christopher and Amelia together, especially with a new one on the way. In my darkest days, when Jack was always in trouble and I was so broke I had to choose between food and rent, I would think about Christopher and you, and later, Amelia, and then I knew that I'd done something right, at least."

"Oh, Mum, you've done many, many things right. And now you're finally seeing the rewards," Ruby told her. "You're getting the things you've always deserved, and Christopher and I are delighted to see it."

The two women hugged.

"We'd better get Amelia ready to go. I'm sure Christopher wants to get home since you two have a long drive ahead of you tomorrow," Jean said.

Alice had set up a baby monitor once the two little girls were sound asleep, so that she could enjoy the show with the rest of them. Jean and Ruby tiptoed into the dressing room where Jean gently lifted Amelia into her arms. Her granddaughter barely stirred, just snuggling more closely into Jean's neck.

Jean leaned close to the monitor and whispered, "Thank you, Alice. I have Amelia, and we're heading out. Lucy is still sound asleep. Good night. See you tomorrow."

Ruby was closing the door behind them when the two men appeared.

"All set," Lucien said softly, as he reached to take the sleeping toddler from Jean.

Jean hugged Christopher and Ruby, wishing them luck in their house hunt. A few minutes later, Jean and Lucien were headed home with Amelia sound asleep in her car seat.

Jean noticed Lucien check the rear view mirror a few times. "Anything?" she asked him, really hoping they wouldn't have to stop with Amelia in the car..

"Not tonight," he said.

"Good," she replied. "Maybe the deputies are busy actually doing their job."

They made it home with no sign of a police car.

Lucien carried Amelia up the stairs while Jean hurried ahead to turn down the sheets and switch on the Tinkerbell nightlight for her. She also turned on the baby monitor, since Amelia would not know where she was when she woke up, and they didn't want her to be afraid.

* * *

The sound of Amelia calling for her mother woke Jean. She rolled over to glance at the clock. Almost nine o'clock. Amelia had slept much later than she thought she would.

She wondered where Lucien had gotten to, She half-expected to hear him in with Amelia. As she donned her robe, she glanced at her phone on the nightstand. There was a text from Lucien. "Getting haircut. Back soonest. Love u."

With a smile, she slid her phone into a pocket and then went to get Amelia.

"Sweetheart, good morning," she greeted the little girl, who wore a big smile at the sight of her grandmother. "Are you ready for some breakfast, my darling?"

"Gamma," Amelia said happily. "Where's Loosen?"

"He'll be back soon, but in the meantime, let's get you some cereal and orange juice, shall we? And we'll see if we can find the kitty."

At the mention of Scout, Amelia was eager to go. She took her grandmother's hand and pulled her out of the room. Despite Amelia's eagerness, however, the stairs proved a challenge, with the little girl insisting on navigating them herself rather than being carried down.

But when they were on the ground floor, Amelia was off at full tilt once more, heading for the kitchen where she remembered Scout's bed was kept.

"Breakfast first, young lady," Jean reminded her. Amelia's lower lip protruded in a definite pout as Jean lifted her into the high chair. "You'll have a whole week to play with the kitty. Heaven help the poor thing."

She put a handful of Cheerios on the tray for Amelia to start on while she fixed a bowl of them with milk and poured orange juice into a snippy cup. She blessed Lucien for having started a pot of coffee before he left for the barbershop.

Jean had just sat down beside Amelia when her phone pinged to indicate an incoming message. She reached into the pocket of her robe to look at it and was startled to see a video already playing. She recognized the Pacific Coast Highway, and then heard Lucien's voice.

"Jean, I'm being pulled over by the Sheriff's Department. If I don't come back on in the next ten minutes, please call Patrick and let him know. I'm on the PCH, about four miles north of Sunset. And I love you very much."

She stared at the phone's screen in trepidation as two deputies approached. They passed out of her range of view when they reached the door, but she could hear them clearly.

"Get out of the car, and keep your hands where we can see them," growled one of them.

"All right," said Lucien, his voice sounding mostly calm. "May I ask why you stopped me?"

"Why? Broken taillight."

Jean could hear the sound of glass breaking, and she gasped. She could only pray Lucien wouldn't react foolishly to them damaging his beloved Mustang.

"What the hell?" she heard him shout.

"Hands on the car, spread your legs," barked one of them.

"Really? You're going to search me? For a broken taillight?"

"Search the car, too. Be a shame if we found any drugs in there, wouldn't it?"

As she heard the car door open, Jean tried to think if he had any medication with him. Most likely not, since Alice had mentioned that he hated to take it.

"You won't find anything you didn't bring with you," Lucien told them.

"Good thing we brought some along, then."

Suddenly, Lucien's phone was moving, and she saw the face of one of the deputies looking directly into the camera.

"Shit, he's recording us!"

The other voice said, "Give it here."

The phone was tossed on the ground, and Jean saw a boot coming down on top of it. The screen went black.


	39. Chapter 39

Jean's heart was racing. What were the police planning to do to Lucien that they wanted to conceal?

She was afraid to touch anything on her phone for fear that she might inadvertently erase the video of Lucien's interaction with the deputies. She reached for the landline to call Patrick.

Thankfully he picked up at once. "Good morning. What can I do for you?"

"Patrick, it's Jean Beazley. Lucien was just pulled over by the Sheriff's Department. They made him get out of the car, broke his taillight so they had a reason for the stop, then they smashed his phone. He was streaming his phone's video to me at the time."

"Be sure to save it," said Patrick. "Did he say where he was?"

"He said he was on the PCH, about four miles north of Sunset. Patrick, they've been following him for days. I think they wanted to get home alone."

"All right, I'll see what I can do. Please send me that video as soon as you can."

"Thank you, Patrick." She hung up as soon so Patrick could work his magic. Then she called Mattie, hoping she was home.

"Ugh, it's too early," came Mattie's sleepy voice.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," Jean began, a hitch in her voice.

Immediately Mattie was more alert. "Jean, what's wrong?"

"Lucien was on his way to get a haircut, and he got pulled over. Mattie, he sent me a video of what they were doing before they smashed his phone."

"Can you bring it over?"

"Amelia is here with us. She's eating her breakfast."

"Yes, right, we'll be right over. Ned is here with me."

"Thank you, Mattie, please hurry."

As good as her word, Mattie arrived within just a few minutes, a bit disheveled in appearance but fixated on the situation at hand.

"Your phone?" she asked.

Jean handed it to her. "I was afraid to do anything in case I wound up deleting the video."

"The first thing we'll do is back it up," said Mattie. She took care of that, then she opened the video to play it, with Jean and Ned watching over her shoulder.

Mattie was horrified. "This goes on YouTube right now," she pronounced.

"I promised to send it to Patrick Tyneman," Jean told her.

"All right, we'll do that first," said Mattie. "Ned, what format do you think?" she asked, glancing behind her. When she saw he wasn't there, she murmured, "Now where did he get to?"

Just then they both heard a car start and pull away. Mattie ran to the door shouting, "Ned, dammit!"

Jean gasped. Ned was going to find Lucien. The trouble was that Ned presented an even bigger target for the police. If he tried to intervene, it would only increase the danger for both of them. "Maybe I should go, too," she suggested. "Would you mind staying with Amelia?"

"No, no, no, no," Mattie said forcefully. "Lucien would have my hide if I let you go. Let me call my father, get him to call the sheriff."

"Do it now, then," Jean said sharply.

As instructed, Mattie made the call and sent the video for him to see what happened. Jean could only hear Mattie's end of the conversation.

"Yes, I know you said it would put a target on him when he started that fund, but you know as well as I do that it was right thing to do. And it doesn't make what they're doing legal, does it?"

Jean held her breath, waiting for Martin O'Brien to make up his mind whether to help. If not, she was going to find Lucien, even if she had to bring Amelia with her.

"Thank you, Dad. Right away, yes? Give Mother my love."

"He'll help?" Jean asked.

"He's calling the Sheriff right now," Mattie assured her. "And he's going to insist the harassment stop or he'll ask the State Attorney General to open an investigation of the whole department."

"Good. Someone should be investigating them. Using their badges to carry out personal vendettas." Jean knew her fear for Lucien was making her overly emotional. She tried to calm herself, knowing it wouldn't help him. "When you were speaking with your father you mentioned something about Lucien starting a fund that made the police unhappy. What fund is that?"

"The one for the victims and their families," said Mattie. When Jean continued to look puzzled, she continued, "I guess you don't know. Aside from the family foundation, Lucien tends to keep the bulk of his philanthropic works under the radar. A while ago he created this fund for those killed in encounters with law enforcement officers. Covering funeral expenses, helping their family members, paying for college for their kids, things like that."

"And I suppose the police think they're being disrespected by him helping people."

"Even though, as I understand it, several children of slain police officers have also received scholarships from the fund, but since he doesn't publicize just who he's helping, they can ignore that part of it. And, of course, when he stepped in while they were going after Ned, well..."

"Yes, I see," said Jean. She might need to have a talk with Lucien about what other charitable endeavors he supported that might be of a sensitive nature. She just prayed they would be able to have that conversation.

She nearly jumped when her phone signaled an incoming call. She glanced down at it. Patrick Tyneman. "Patrick, what's going on?" she asked, holding her breath.

"Jean, he's going to be fine," Patrick was quick to assure her. "They roughed him up some, but thankfully nothing worse. The attorney, Noel Foster, lives right near there, so he was able to get to Lucien's car in a matter of minutes after I called him. Young Simmons is also there filming everything, and apparently the Sheriff himself called his people and demanded to know what's going on."

"Thank God, and you, Patrick. Where is Lucien now?"

"He's on his way to the hospital to get checked out."

"Which hospital?"

"Cedars-Sinai. He probably won't need to stay overnight, Foster said."

"I have to see him," Jean insisted. "If nothing else, he'll need a ride home."

"All right, then. Please, ask him to give me a call when he gets a chance."

"I'll tell him. Again, thank you, Patrick, for everything."

* * *

As she walked into the hospital lobby, the first person she noticed was Doctor Alice Harvey, who walked over to meet her.

"Alice, I'm so sorry. I should have called you and Matthew."

"You had other things to worry about," Alice said dismissively. "Patrick called me."

"Have you seen Lucien yet?"

"Not yet. I'm told he's in Radiology at the moment, then they'll move him to a room for observation. For a few hours or overnight, depending on what the x-rays reveal."

"What are they afraid of?"

"A concussion, or even a skull fracture," said Alice. "It seems they hit him in the head several times with a baton as well as several blows to the ribs and back."

Jean gasped. When Patrick told her Lucien had been roughed up, she'd imagined some scrapes and bruises, not anything like this. Horrific images flooded her mind.

Alice touched her arm. "Jean, the good news, according to the report from the paramedics, was there is no sign of his PTSD despite the beating. He really has defeated it."

Jean couldn't help but be thankful that they didn't have to learn whether gunshots might still trigger it. Now she just needed to see him, to assure herself that he would recover from this.

When Ned Simmons walked in, Jean instinctively hugged him, so relieved was she that he had not been injured, too.

"Have you spoken with Mattie?" she asked him. "She was worried sick when you took off like that."

"I sent her a copy of my video," he said.

"At least she knows you're okay then. What did you see, Ned?"

Ned took a deep breath before he started speaking. "I could see all three of them when I was driving up, Lucien and the two deputies." He shook his head in dismay at the memory. "Lucien was on his knees with his arms up, trying to protect his head. One of them was aiming for it with his nightstick, and the other was kicking him in the back."

He paused to squeeze Jean's arm, but she only wanted him to continue. She needed to know what happened to Lucien.

"One of them saw me as I stopped the car about a hundred feet away. I held my phone up so they could see I was recording them. He said something to the other one, and they both stopped attacking Lucien. The first one started toward me, but before he got close, Mister Foster's car pulled up near me. He started to get out of his car, and just then the radio in the police car went off. Someone was ordering them to get back to the station."

"Mattie's father came through," Jean sighed with relief.

"Mister Foster called the paramedics. The deputies were trying to force Lucien into their squad car, but Mister Foster insisted he had to go to the hospital instead, and whoever was on the radio seemed to agree."

Jean was cringing, inside as well as out. "Please tell me he didn't arrive here in handcuffs," she begged.

"He didn't arrive here in handcuffs," Ned and Alice said in unison.

"They let him go," Ned continued. "Under orders to do it."

She offered up a prayer of thanks to Martin O'Brien, certain that his call to the sheriff was responsible, perhaps even saving Lucien's life.

"He's safe now. That's the important thing," said Alice, just as a nurse approached them.

"Doctor Harvey, Mister Blake is being settled in a room now. His doctor should be there shortly to discuss his condition with you."

"Thank you, Nurse. This is Mister Blake's fiancée, Jean Beazley. As you can imagine, she's quite anxious to know his condition as well."

"Of course, she can accompany you." And the nurse gave them the room number and directions to reach it.

Ned cleared his throat. "I'll just go back to the house, fill Mattie in," he said.

"Mattie is at our place, watching my granddaughter." Jean hugged him again. "Thank you, Ned. You're a good friend."

He shrugged. "Just returning the favor. Please give my Lucien my best, and let me know if there's anything I can do."

"He's going to need someone to fill in for him and Jean at the club tonight," said Alice. "If you're interested, give Matthew a call."

"I'll do that. Thanks." He gave them a wave as he walked toward the door.

* * *

When they walked softly into his room, Lucien was alone with his eyes closed. Jean studied him closely. Outwardly, it wasn't as bad as she'd feared. Either that or the bruises and swelling were still developing. One cheekbone was slightly discolored, and there seemed to be a lump rising over the eyebrow above it.

Carefully, Jean moved a chair close to his bedside so she could take his hand, and as soon as she did, he opened his eyes. Or rather, he opened one eye and tried to squint through the other.

"How are you feeling?" she asked quietly, figuring he probably had a substantial headache.

He closed his eyes again before answering, "Not too bad, considering."

"Considering you thought you might be killed?" asked Jean, lifting an eyebrow.

"There was that possibility," he admitted. He noticed Alice standing over Jean's shoulder. "Alice, what do the doctors say? How long will I be in here?"

"They're reading the x-rays now. If there's no skull fracture or concussion, I expect they'll let you go home later today."

"And if there is a concussion or skull fracture?" Jean asked.

"For a concussion, likely just overnight for observation. With a skull fracture, it would depend on the severity and if there's any bleeding on the brain." She peered more closely at his eye. "They'll want an ophthalmologist to take a look at you, in any case."

Jean frowned. "Can you see out of it at all?"

"I can see better if I close that one. I think it might just be the swelling around it."

"Yes, possibly," said Alice, "but no reason not to have it looked at while you're here."

At that moment the doctor arrived. The three of them looked at her expectantly.

She introduced herself to Jean, then gave her report. "First of all, there is no skull fracture. There is, however, a rather severe concussion, so you'll need to be here at least overnight for that, and we'll see if any complications present as a result. Also, your kidneys are severely bruised. We'll keep an eye on those as well. Ribs and spine also have some serious contusions, which I'm sure are making you uncomfortable, but we need to limit the type of pain medication we give you due to the concussion."

"I'd rather deal with the pain than the effects of the medication," Lucien told her.

The doctor looked to Alice, who nodded. "He doesn't deal well with opioids, and he does have a high pain tolerance."

"We can discuss how to best manage the pain and edema," the doctor told Alice. "As for now, just settle in and rest. I'll check back this evening."

"Thank you, Doctor," Jean and Lucien said together.

When the doctor had gone, Alice turned back to Lucien. "You withstood that beating without having an episode. Well done, but I have a lot of questions." She looked from Lucien to Jean and back again as they both stared at her. "Which can wait. Feel better, Lucien." And quickly she left the room.

Jean pulled Lucien's hand to her lips and kissed it. "You need to be more careful, Lucien. I thought I'd lost you."

"Yes, I know." He sighed. "I didn't have an episode, but I'm still not entirely sure of what happened, why they stopped when they did."

Jean explained everything she knew, including the calls to Patrick and Martin O'Brien, as well as what Ned had told her. "You have some very good friends," she told him in conclusion, "as well as some enemies, it would seem."

"Yes. I think we're going to have to do something about that. I suppose we should discuss our options with Noel Foster, once I get out of here. Jean, my darling, I'm exhausted. I'll probably sleep for most of the afternoon. Maybe you should go home, see to Amelia."

"Amelia is just fine for the moment, perfectly happy with Mattie's company. You, on the other hand, seem to need someone watching over you, at least until you fall asleep." She leaned over to kiss him gently on the forehead.

"It's a good thing I have you for the job, then," he said quietly as he closed his eyes.

Jean sat beside him, holding his hand and watching him sleep. She couldn't help but wonder where they went from here, how to deal with all of this. She was beginning to understand some of what people like Ned felt, always being targeted by the police. And most in that situation didn't have the resources or connections that Lucien had to help him deal with it. She decided she needed to know more about the fund Mattie had mentioned, to see what else they could do to help people caught in the criminal justice system, many through no fault of their own. It wasn't fair, and Jean wanted to do something about it.

* * *

_A/N: For those following my story 'Freedom', I ran into an issue there, but I've found a way around it now. The next chapter is about half-finished._


	40. Chapter 40

Once she was certain that Lucien was sleeping soundly and as comfortable as he could be under the circumstances, Jean went home to spend some time with Amelia. She knew the little one must be confused about what was happening.

Mattie met her at the door. "How is he?" she asked anxiously.

"He should be fine." Jean explained what the doctor had said. "He's due to be released tomorrow, unless something unexpected pops up. Now, how has Amelia been? She didn't give you too much trouble?"

"No trouble whatsoever, except to poor Scout maybe."

"Such a sweet creature, that Scout," said Jean. "Mattie, thank you so much for everything."

"I'm glad I was here to help, and spending time with that little treasure is never anything but a pleasure. She's down in the music room with Ned, playing the piano."

"I'll send Ned back up, so you two can get on with your day," said Jean.

"Just so you know, I'm free all day, so if you want to go back to visit Lucien later, I'm available to stay with Amelia."

Jean hugged the younger woman. "You're a good friend, Mattie O'Brien. I don't know what Lucien and I would do without you."

"You're very welcome," said Mattie, beaming. "But I do have a bone to pick with you, Mrs. Beazley. Since you and Lucien are getting married, that means I have to find another tenant. I'll never find another one like you. And I never would have found you if not for Lucien."

Jean thought for a minute. "You know, I might know someone who'd be interested, unless you prefer only female tenants."

"Not necessarily. Just someone who's responsible and dependable. Is it anyone I might know?"

"Maybe," said Jean. "I should speak with him first, see if it's doable before I get your hopes up."

"If you can find me another reliable tenant, then it more than cancels out anything I may have done for you," Mattie insisted.

"Well, then, let's hope it works out," said Jean. "Now I'd better go rescue Ned before Amelia starts to get cranky."

She went down the stairs and could hear the two of them from the stairwell.

"That's right, that one," Ned was saying.

A single note sounded five times, very quickly, causing Jean to smile as she walked into the music room. "Lovely," she said.

At once Amelia slid off Ned's lap and hurried over for Jean to pick her up and give her a hug.

"Thank you, Ned," she said, "for keeping her entertained."

"It was my pleasure, Mrs. B," he said in his quiet manner. "I have a niece just about the same age, but she lives in Connecticut so I don't see her very often. Amelia makes me miss her even more."

"Well, then, you should go see her when you can. Family is important."

"Yes, I know," said Ned. He paused to reach into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out Lucien's smashed phone. "I picked this up from the scene. I'm not sure whether it can be repaired, but I didn't think it was a good idea to leave it where the police, or anyone else, could get hold of it."

"That was very wise of you, thank you," said Jean. "I'll see if it's worth repairing. Which reminds me, he has a spare one that I should probably take to him."

"I was going to stop by the hospital on the way to the club. I can take it to him if you want."

"That would be very helpful. I'm sure he'll miss it when he wakes up. I'll just charge it for him and bring it over to you."

"I'll see you later then," said Ned. "Enjoy your time with Amelia."

The little girl insisted on kissing his cheek before he left.

She put Amelia down for her nap, hoping it might be a long one since she hadn't had much sleep the night before. While she was upstairs she pulled out Lucien's spare phone to charge it. Then she called Patrick Tyneman.

"Lucien should be fine, thanks to you and Mattie O'Brien," she told him. "A night in the hospital for observation due to a concussion, and there's some concern about one of his eyes, but it could have been so much worse."

"Thank you for letting me know, Jean. I'll stop by to see him a little later."

"Patrick, while I have you can I ask you something?"

"Lucien told me to give you full access to all his finances. How much do you need?"

Jean was indignant about the implication. "I don't want his money, just some information. I thought the sheriff's deputies were after Lucien because he challenged them on their treatment of Ned Simmons, but Mattie mentioned that the police resent him due to a fund that he established."

"I think it's a fair bit of both," Patrick told her.

"And are there other things he supports that I should know about, that might be reasons for concern down the road?" She knew there wouldn't be anything illegal, but knowing Lucien there might well be causes that were highly controversial.

After a long pause, Patrick said, "I maintain a file of all his political and social endeavors. We go over it twice a year so he can make any changes he might want. Let me clear it with Lucien when I see him, just to be sure, and I'll forward it to you."

"How many entries are in this file?" Jean wondered.

"I believe the current number is two hundred twenty-seven."

The number was staggering to Jean, but not entirely surprising. Over the years she had often thought that if she ever established a successful singing career, one of the best things about having the financial freedom that came with it would be having the means to support the causes she believed in. She looked forward to seeing if any of the ones in Patrick's file were among those.

"Thank you, Patrick, I'd appreciate if you would do that."

"You're welcome. Now, as it turns out, I'm off to a meeting with your son and his partner. They've reached the stage in their business where they need to start planning a marketing campaign. I have very high hopes for this enterprise of theirs."

Jean ended the call with a smile on her face. It seemed her rebellious Jack was finally maturing and settling down. She couldn't be happier about that.

* * *

She took advantage of the time Amelia was sleeping to have a leisurely lunch and catch up on her own financial matters. She put the television on to see the news while she dealt with her bills.

As she made one of the remaining payments for the loan on her old clunker of a car, she wondered if it was even worth keeping now. Lucien's two vehicles were much more reliable. He'd commented more than once that he worried about it breaking down late at night in an unsafe area, leaving her stranded. She could certainly afford payments on something newer, safer and more fuel efficient. She decided she would discuss it with him once he was home.

She finished up and was about to turn off the television when the 'Breaking News' banner flashed across the screen and a photo of Lucien's face appeared. Her heart sank as she realized the media had again picked up on the story. She supposed it was inevitable, once the video had been posted on YouTube. Still, she knew that meant reporters were certain to be camping outside soon, looking for a statement. And Lucien wasn't there to handle them with his customary ease.

She was glad she didn't have to leave for work, but she did want to visit the hospital again later. Wondering how long the reporters could possibly stay out there, she decided she would call Lucien for advice when she was sure Ned had given him the phone.

As it turned out, he called her first.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"A bit better, but the headache is still here. Will I see you later? Can you find someone to stay with Amelia?"

"Mattie already offered, but there's another problem."

"What's wrong?" he asked anxiously.

After so many years of struggling on her own with any difficulties that arose, the idea that she now had someone to share them with still made her appreciate him even more than she already did.

"I'm afraid the media has found out about what happened," she told him.

"Are there reporters outside?"

She walked to the side of the house facing the road to look out. Her heart sank at the sight of several news vans and a battery of cameras already set up. "Yes, there's a handful of them, with more arriving.

"I'm so sorry, Jean. You shouldn't have to deal with that."

"You needn't apologize. It's not as though you went looking for a fight. But I could use your advice on how to deal with them."

He thought for a moment. "As I see it, you have a few choices. You can just stay in the house until I get there tomorrow. If they call or come to the door, don't answer."

"Let them make me a prisoner in my own home?" Jean's tone clearly told him what she thought of that option.

"You could ignore them. Act as though they aren't there. Walk or drive right past them if they try to ask questions."

"Won't that come off as rude?" she asked. "I'm not exactly Greta Garbo, and we really don't want the press as our enemies once we launch our act."

"Ah, that brings me to the third choice: talk to them. Jean, if we need to promote our act or any music we might record, you'll have to be able to speak with the press, yourself. Why not begin now?"

In the back of her mind, she knew this would come, but she wasn't sure she was ready for it. Not without Lucien at her side.

He must have recognized her silence as apprehension. "You can do this, I know you can. If you like, you can write down what you want to say and read it as a statement. Then, depending on how that goes, you can decide if you want to take further questions. Think of the reporters as just another audience. You're brilliant at handling an audience."

She thought about what he'd said. In a way, they _were_ like an audience. Granted, they had the power to influence a lot of opinions, but so did any patron of the club, who could tell twenty or more acquaintances how good (or bad) they thought her show was.

"Jean?" Lucien prompted, waiting for her response.

"All right, I think I'll do what you suggested. Prepare a statement to read, then decide if I want to take any questions."

"Bravo," he said. "I know you can do this."

Jean wished she was as certain about it as Lucien was.

She sat down with her ancient laptop and began to write down her thoughts. First she made a list of the points she wanted to cover, then she arranged them in the order she would present them.

She didn't want to read the statement word for word, but she thought she'd better write it out that way first, to provide herself a crutch in case she totally froze. She would put the essential words of each paragraph in boldface type so she could pick them out at a glance as she spoke.

She wondered if she should ask Lucien if there was anything he wanted her to include, but then decided against that. He had put his trust in her to do this by herself, and she wanted to show him that his trust had not been misplaced.

When she was satisfied with what she had, she changed into a form-fitting skirt and a favorite silk blouse that her fiancé had given her, fixed her hair and makeup, then checked that Amelia was still sound asleep. She opened the app that connected to the baby monitor and slipped the phone into her pocket, just in case Amelia woke while she was outside.

Finally, feeling as ready as she could ever hope to be, she opened the front door and walked toward the press gaggle. Immediately they swarmed toward her.

"Good afternoon," she began as the click of camera shutters nearly drowned out her words. She raised her voice. "My name is Jean Beazley. I'm Lucien Blake's fiancée. He asked that I address you on his behalf."

"The singer, Jean Beazley, is that right?" shouted one reporter.

Jean was tempted to ignore him, not wanting to encourage others to yell out while she was trying to speak, but she knew she should have clarified who she was a bit more anyway.

"Yes, I'm the singer who works with Mister Blake. Now, let me tell you what happened this morning. Lucien was on his way to a haircut appointment when his car was pulled over by officers of the Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department. I'm sure you've seen the video of what happened when he was stopped.

"What you didn't see, after his phone was smashed to stop the recording, was the two deputies beating him aggressively. Two witnesses, including his attorney, can testify to the physical abuse. They stopped only when they were ordered to by someone at dispatch."

"We saw the video from Mister Simmons, too," one of the reporters told her.

"Did you? I haven't seen it myself," said Jean.

A female reporter told her, "You may want to skip it. Pretty graphic. It's difficult to watch."

"Thank you for telling me," said Jean. "Anyway, Lucien is currently in the hospital, where he'll remain at least overnight."

"Can you tell us anything about his injuries?"

"Well, the most concerning is a concussion. I spoke with him a short time ago. He's awake and alert, but suffering from headaches. He's also awaiting a consultant to see if there's damage to one of his eyes. Other than that, mostly heavy bruising over much of his body."

"Does he plan to take legal action against the county or the Sheriff's Department?"

Jean hesitated, since they hadn't got around to discussing that. "He's still considering his legal options," she responded.

"Do you believe the motive for the beating was retaliation for Lucien stepping in when they were harassing Ned Simmons?"

"I think you should probably ask them why they did it, but I would guess that was a factor, yes," Jean said.

"When's the wedding?" one of them called out.

Jean laughed at that. "I'm afraid we haven't decided yet. We have only been engaged for few days." She heard the faint sound of Amelia beginning to stir over her phone.

"Congratulations," said one reporter, and it was echoed by many of the others.

"Thank you, and now if you'll excuse me. Good day."

She wanted to run back inside and finally exhale, but she forced herself to walk briskly instead. As she closed the door behind her she leaned back against it in relief. That hadn't gone too badly, she decided. Maybe she could handle the press after all.

She went to see to Amelia.


End file.
